


Heart of the Deal

by antipositional, xtremeroswellian



Series: True Mates [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Pepper Potts, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Brooklyn Boys, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson - Freeform, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Christmas, Christmas Parties, Dancing, Family Dynamics, Fluff, HYDRA are still assholes, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Modern Bucky Barnes, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega Rights Movement, Poisoning, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam to the Rescue, Shrunkyclunks, Soulmates, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson - Freeform, Team as Family, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antipositional/pseuds/antipositional, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: Bucky and Steve just want their first Christmas together to be nice and quiet.Apparently that's too much to ask.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: True Mates [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104260
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

Steve… may have gone a little overboard, but somehow, he feels more than a little justified. He parks the rental pickup around the corner from Book Barnes and glances in the rearview mirror at the giant pine taking up the entire bed of the truck -- and then some, a little orange flag tied to the tip and flapping in the chill breeze, a couple of stray snowflakes tumbling with it. 

He pulls out his phone, texting Bucky that he’s coming in the back door (that only they and the Avengers know about), and slides out of the cab, rounding the back to start loosening the straps holding the tree down, careful not to disturb the branches too much. Then he pulls the thing out of the truck, carefully balances it on one shoulder and starts down the sidewalk, glad it’s dusk and snowing lightly so there aren’t any people around to gawk at him. Granted, most people are used to seeing Steve and Bucky go in and out of the store, but usually not carrying a seven- or eight-foot pine tree like a sack of potatoes. 

Also, he wants to get in that back entrance without anyone noticing, but that’s not too hard, since it’s hidden down an alleyway. 

Bucky’s busy ringing up one of the final customers of the night when gets Steve’s text. A quick glance at his phone tells him that his boyfriend is back and okay, given the lack of urgency suggested by a text instead of a call. He relaxes a little, handing the customer some change and his bagged-up books. “Have a good night,” he tells the man, who nods and heads out the door. Bucky follows him, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’ and locking up the doors, rolling down the blinds and setting the alarm. 

Steve’s careful to make sure no one’s around as he slips between the buildings, knocking out a pattern on the door before pulling out his key one-handed to fit it in the lock and push open the door. “Buck?” 

Bucky smiles when Steve calls out his name from somewhere in the apartment. “Just shutting things down,” he calls back, checking all the windows and making sure they’re all locked and secured before glancing around for Alpine. “Stevie, do you see the cat by chance?” Because he’s not spotted her in the last couple hours, since a bit before Steve had announced he had an errand he had to run and proceeded to refuse to give Bucky any idea about the nature of said errand. 

He hadn’t been annoyed, really. Baffled, sure, but only because he and Steve have been together for a solid six months now and there really aren’t any secrets between them anymore. 

“Uh,” Steve takes a minute to get in the door, glancing around under the branches and -- “Yep. She’s back here.” Pawing at the flag on the end of the tree, of course. “Which is where you should be, so hurry up,” he adds, tone good-natured and with a laugh underneath it. Now that he’s standing in the apartment, he… might have definitely gone a little overboard. Although he thinks there’s one corner near the loft that might be tall enough to stand the tree up without it hitting the ceiling _too_ badly.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at that, curiosity growing even as he approaches the apartment to see what Steve’s up to. He pauses in his tracks just inside the door, blinking a few times, because at first all he can really see is the top branches of a giant pine tree. “Uh. Did you go on a mission and get turned into the tree from Rockefeller Center?” he jokes, before moving to scoop Alpine up and out of the way so Steve can actually get the rest of the way in the door with said tree. He sets her up on the sofa and moves to help him get the tree in. 

“Oh, damn, I should’ve gone there. It’s already decorated and everything,” Steve laughs, but fortunately for them both, the tree comes the rest of the way in pretty easily, and Steve maneuvers it around to prop it in the corner he’s thinking of pretty easily. “Although I always thought half the fun was decorating it, you know? It’s been a while, though. Maybe I’m misremembering.” 

He glances over at Bucky, finally, a dumb, hopeful smile on his face as he adds, “Is this okay?” 

Bucky stares at the tree for a moment, kind of in awe that Steve managed to wrangle it into the place to begin with, and that it actually _fits_. But one glance at that look on Steve’s face and his own lips quirk up into a smile, a completely involuntary reaction that always seems to happen when the other man looks so happy. God, he loves him. 

“Of course it is,” he says, moving to stand beside him. Steve looks visibly pleased -- more pleased -- at the confirmation.

“I gotta say, this wasn’t the kind of errand I’d been anticipating you coming back from.” A soft laugh escapes Bucky. 

Steve laughs, too, dusting his hands off on his jeans before reaching over to reel Bucky in, because he’s simply standing too far away. “Should I even ask what you thought I was doing?” he murmurs, although he knows it had definitely been weird, saying he was going out and not explaining further. There really _aren’t_ any secrets between them, and Steve hopes Bucky had known that. Does know that. “Should I have left a carefully coded message?” he grins. 

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate to move closer when Steve catches his hand and tugs him in, winding his arms around Steve’s neck and resting their foreheads together. “Kinda thought maybe you were buying me dinner,” he teases, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet. “But I’m not disappointed.”

“Ah. I mean, that’s not a bad idea, either,” Steve laughs, because it’s getting late and he _is_ hungry. “It’s not nearly as romantic, but I’ll pay for takeout?” He punctuates that with another kiss, though, because as hungry as he is, he’d rather spend a few more minutes close to Bucky, before he has to do anything else. Including order food. 

“Deal.” Bucky grins and rests his forehead against Steve’s again, also enjoying the closeness. They’re still careful when it comes to being too affectionate in the bookstore or in public, and since they’d been at the store the majority of the day… 

“We’ll have to buy some decorations, unless you’ve got some stashed somewhere hidden,” he adds.

“No decorations,” Steve confirms. “But I figured we could get them together. Pick out stuff we both like. Maybe for the store, too? Some lights or something.” It doesn’t have to be overtly one holiday or another, but lights seem nice and generic. 

“Yeah, I like that idea. And maybe a wreath for the door,” Bucky suggests, brushing his nose against Steve’s. 

“Definitely,” Steve agrees, laughing softly, thinking he might never get over what Tony keeps calling the ‘honeymoon phase.’ And he’s pretty good with that, frankly. “I like that, too. We can pick some things up later, if you want. Or this weekend, if you want to just stay in and see whether Alpine can topple that tree before we get it into a proper stand.” 

He glances over to where Alpine is indeed inspecting the tree, white tail swishing back and forth. She doesn't look like she’s going to do anything drastic, but a guy never knows. 

“I think let’s give it the night at least,” Bucky tells him, amusement tugging his mouth upwards as he glances to where Alpine’s studying the tree intently, like she’s trying to figure out if this is a new giant toy all for her. “Maybe we can leave the store in Wanda’s hands tomorrow afternoon and see what we can find in the way of decorations,” he suggests. “Maybe at some of the thrift stores.” 

Because for one, the thrift stores around all tend to give out vouchers for people who can’t afford much so he likes to help them out by shopping there whenever the occasion arises, but also because he’s seen some more unique things, older things, things that might catch _Steve’s_ attention more than the flashy brand-new items toted by a big box store. 

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Steve murmurs, because yeah, he definitely likes the idea of shopping in a more personalized thrift store than one of the big, echoing, brightly lit places that seem to have popped up everywhere. Not that Costco doesn’t have its uses, when there are super soldiers to feed. But still. 

“You have really good ideas,” Steve adds, leaning in for a kiss, mostly because he just wants to. It had been a pretty long day in the store, and it’s not like they have no self-control, but he _likes_ kissing Bucky and it’s nice to just be able to do it, in the comfort of their own home. It’s surprising, just how much it soothes him, even now. 

“I like to think so.” Bucky smiles against his mouth, humming quietly. 

“We should kick in a holiday bonus for Wanda, too, honestly,” Steve says, when they part. “She’s been so much help, I bet she could use it.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” Bucky presses another kiss to his lips and tightens his arms around Steve. “Seriously, though. Thank you for the tree. I love it. I haven’t put one up in a few years.” He’d been away in the army for a few years, which obviously wasn’t conducive to having a Christmas tree, and then after…

Well. He hadn’t had the heart for it once his parents took off. He wonders when the last time Steve celebrated Christmas was. He pulls back to look at him, searching his eyes. “Have you?” 

Steve’s mouth twists a little, looking more wry than anything, but he’s got to admit, “Not since I came out of the ice, honestly. Just… hadn’t felt like it?” That probably sounds weird, but it’s true. It’s not that he’d been opposed to Christmas, just… hadn’t felt festive enough to bother getting a tree. “Most years I wasn’t home much anyway,” he adds, because it’s not like the bad guys had stopped just because it was December

Bucky lifts his hand up to Steve’s cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. “Understandable,” he says quietly, voice filled with honesty. 

His expression softens as Steve goes on to say, “But I think I kinda missed it. And it seemed like a good tradition to start up. With you,” he adds, almost shyly, knowing by now that Bucky’s clearly on board with the tree, but still feeling a little strange, admitting his actual line of reasoning out loud. But only a little strange. 

At that, Bucky feels his cheeks grow warm. “I already like this new tradition.” And he’d be lying if he said a little thrill didn’t rush down his spine at the idea of it being the beginning of _many_ Christmases to come. He knows that’s the plan, knows they’re committed to one another in all the ways that matter, but every time Steve says or does something that reaffirms that, it feels like his insides turn into Jell-o. 

“I do really like Christmas,” Steve says.

“I like it, too.” And Bucky’s looking forward to it for the first time in a long, long time. 

Steve can’t help the way he beams at that. “Yeah? Good.” He leans in for a kiss, soft and slow. “Let’s kick it off with dinner, though,” he adds, finally, with a little laugh, digging in his pocket for his phone. “I’m starving. How does Christmas pizza sound?”

***

They spend the following morning shopping for lights, garland, and as many unique Christmas tree ornaments as they can find. They wind up picking up a couple of nice wreaths that actually look like they’re homemade, which adds a nice touch to things, and they end up buying so much they manage to decorate the shop _and_ their apartment, stringing lights all around the lofted sleeping area as a curious Alpine watches every move they make. 

Bucky’s a little wary at how she’s going to react to all of the new things in the long run, but for now she seems content to just stare and occasionally bat a paw at the lights. Probably not harmful. He hopes. 

The tree in their apartment is a challenge in and of itself just due to its massive height, but Bucky braves the ladder with determination, stringing up lights and garland on the highest branches because it’s going to be the most beautiful tree possible when all is said and done. 

Yeah, they might have gone a little overboard -- but honestly, Steve doesn’t mind. It’s their first Christmas together, and his first Christmas in a while, that he’s bothered decorating. It sounds like the same for Bucky. So, overboard is really the only way to go, he figures, unpacking the tinsel for the tree as Bucky strings the lights and garland over the branches. Of course, that’s admittedly a little distracting, watching Bucky stretch out to drape the strands over the tree’s branches, and Steve can’t help but be pleased at how everything’s turned out. The lights everywhere make it feel even cozier in the little apartment behind the store, and Alpine seems curious but not destructive (yet, at least), watching Bucky almost curiously from her perch on the back of the couch. 

“Got it?” Steve calls over, although it’s really just a courtesy; Bucky seems to be doing okay up there, but it’s still polite to ask. “I think these ornaments we got are gonna look really good with that garland.” 

“Yep. Maybe we should put the tree topper on while I’m up here, too,” Bucky suggests, glancing down at Steve. Heights aren’t his favorite thing in the world, but he’s spent enough time on ladders in the store putting books away and doing inventory that he rarely thinks twice about it. It’s also weird being up higher than Steve, considering his boyfriend’s nearly three inches taller than him, normally. 

“Or should that go on after the ornaments?” 

Steve hums. “Well, I mean. You’re already up there. I don’t see why not?” He glances around at the piles of boxes they’ve still got. “It’s in one of these, right?” He starts digging around -- he can picture the bag and box that it was in, but of course he isn’t entirely sure where it got to in the pile of things they’ve still got for the tree. Maybe they really _did_ go overboard. 

Bucky glances at the pile of things. “Yeah, somewhere? It was a green box, I think.” He rests his left elbow on the top of the ladder, gaze dropping almost involuntarily to Steve’s backside -- displayed quite wonderfully in a pair of blue jeans that fit him _just_ right, and well. Bucky’s only human. He lets himself enjoy the view from his higher vantage point, playful smile tugging at his mouth. 

“I remember the green box, yeah,” Steve hums, going through a few bags before -- “Ah-hah, here it is,” he grins, holding it up triumphantly in front of a very unimpressed-looking Alpine. “Well, don’t get all excited about it,” he sniffs, reaching out to rub between her ears with a laugh before he stands up and pulls the lid off the box, beaming as he holds it up to Bucky. 

“I feel like this is a big moment… should I film it on my phone or something? That’s what people do these days, right?” 

Bucky laughs quietly at the question, though his expression is soft as he gazes at Steve. “Yeah. That’s the trend,” he agrees, reaching out to take the shimmering star from him and placing it carefully atop the tree. 

“Well, we’d better be trendy, then,” Steve says, pulling out his phone to record as Bucky takes the star and sets it on the top of the tree. 

It looks good, and Steve’s just about to say so when Bucky doesn’t think about his next move -- he simply leans back instinctively to assess whether it’s on there securely enough and that it looks balanced, not realizing that _he’s_ off balance. The ladder tips with the weight of his body shifting backwards just a tiny fraction and then he’s falling, ground rushing up to meet him from nine feet in the air and -- it’s going to hurt. 

It’s a mere fraction of a second but it feels a lot longer in his mind as Bucky does his best to brace himself for what’s probably going to at least shatter a rib -- advanced healing or not. 

Steve doesn’t even think. His body just moves on instinct, dropping the phone and diving for the foot of the ladder, where Bucky’s toppling over in what almost feels like slow motion. Steve has time to see the look on Bucky’s face morph, see him lose his balance, and see exactly where he needs to get to keep the worst from happening 

It’s just the way the world looks, sometimes, when his adrenaline kicks in, but it works in his favor (both their favors, really) because Steve manages to get there in time to catch Bucky, if a little awkwardly and largely bridal-style, before he can hit the ground. He even manages to stay standing amid the tangle of arms and legs, although he staggers just a little -- more under the unbalanced way he caught Bucky than the weight, really. “Buck?” 

It takes Bucky another second to comprehend that he doesn’t hit the ground and he’s not hurt. And when he opens his eyes, he realizes it’s because Steve had moved and managed to _catch_ him. 

The worried look on Steve’s face registers almost instantly and Bucky exhales, resting his head against Steve’s for a second. “Good catch,” he croaks out. 

Steve’s face breaks into a relieved grin as he lets out a breathy laugh. “Thanks,” he says, body relaxing a little from being wound tight like a spring, ready to fight -- or to dash over and catch Bucky, it seems. “I mean, I couldn’t let the most important thing I have fall off the tree, right?” 

It’s… a really lame line, yeah. He knows. But his heart is pounding a little and he doesn’t actually feel like putting Bucky down just yet, so he just stands there with Bucky in his arms, grinning a little stupidly and thinking that maybe Bucky will be willing to put up with that line because Steve probably -- hopefully -- has at least a few other redeeming qualities that will make up for it. 

Really lame line or not, it _works_ , but only because Steve’s the one who says it. He’d scoff at anyone else, probably. But Bucky’s heart is also still beating rapidly from the near accident, and the grin on Steve’s face is enough to make him grin right back, lifting his right hand to cup the back of his neck, brushing over the bonding mark there. 

His alpha caught him. 

And there’s something about the fact that he’s both strong and fast enough to do that, that makes warmth spread throughout Bucky’s body as he leans in and presses a kiss against his mouth. “I love you too,” he responds. 

Steve would respond, but the combination of the touch to his neck and the kiss pretty much means he’s got other things to worry about, just at the moment. Like kissing Bucky breathless, because that sounds like a good plan, right? The best plan. The only plan that matters right now. 

At least, until he hears… something, and has to pull away to see Alpine batting at the end of the garland that’s hanging off the bottom branch. 

That makes him laugh, even as he doesn’t set Bucky down yet. “Your cat is interrupting us,” he says playfully -- Alpine is always “Bucky’s” cat only when she’s being trouble. Not that this is really trouble, although Steve supposes it could escalate. “I guess we should do something about it?” 

Bucky groans softly, virtually melting beneath Steve’s attention the way he always does when things take a turn toward the romantic. He shivers a little, nuzzling against his neck even as Steve lets him know that their cat is up to _something_. He glances over his shoulder, eyes still a bit darker than usual as he watches her play with the garland, meowing loudly. 

“No, Alpine,” he tells her, tone firm but gentle at the same time. He’s never been able to bring himself to scold her with a loud voice. She glances at him and then bats at the garland again. He sighs. “Guess you’ll have to put me down so I can pick her up.” 

Steve sighs, but honestly, it’s mostly for show, and the look in his eyes makes that clear. “She’s supposed to be on our side,” he says with a soft laugh, but he does, slowly -- to make sure Bucky’s got his feet under him -- set the other down, even if his hand slides slowly down his back, touch lingering as long as he can make it. “Maybe we should give her something safe to distract herself with, while we finish this,” he adds, with a grin, going to one of the bags and digging around for something Bucky hadn’t seen him buy -- a cat toy in the shape of a candy cane, filled with catnip. 

Bucky laughs quietly, too, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek as the other man sets him on his feet once more. He lets his own hand linger momentarily against Steve’s chest, cocking his head to the side and watching curiously as he retrieves a cat toy. Then he tries not to smirk at just how wound around her little paw Alpine has them _both_ now. If anything, it only makes him realize just how perfect Steve really is for him. Which he knows, anyway. They are, after all, soul mates. 

“I’m gonna get you a shirt that says ‘World’s Best Cat Dad’ for Christmas,” he teases as he moves away, scooping Alpine up into his arms. 

Steve snorts softly. “Maybe Grandpa, I’m too old to be her dad,” he laughs, waggling the toy in front of her while Bucky holds the cat. It takes her a moment to turn her interest from the garland that’s now much farther away to the toy in front of her face, but eventually she seems to catch on and perk up. “But it just didn’t seem right to leave her out of the festivities. Plus, I wasn’t sure if we might need a distraction, but it seemed like a safe bet.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes at the grandpa comment, but he does smile when Alpine catches onto the fact she has a new toy to play with. It does seem to be working. She reaches out with one white paw, trying to snag the fabric, making Steve grin. “Should we set her up over on the other side of the room while we finish up with the tree? Unless you think it’s a good time for a break.” Whereby _break_ be mostly means _maybe some more kissing._

“I think it’s definitely time for a break.” Because Bucky knows right away what Steve means by that. He carries Alpine across the room and carefully sets her down on the kitchen floor so she can play with her new toy. 

Then he turns to find Steve right behind him and he inhales, leaning into him without hesitation, resting his hands on his shoulders and offering him a sweet smile. 

Steve maybe enjoys sneaking up on Bucky when he can -- mostly because Bucky’s an observant and alert guy, too, and honestly a little hard to sneak up on. But sometimes it’s certainly got its advantages, like right now, when it’s easy to slide his arms around Bucky’s waist and pull him close and say, “Hey there, handsome.” 

He leans in, brushing his nose against Bucky’s, knowing it’s not quite what they want but he’s always sort of liked teasing like this. It feels like it’s safe, when they’re alone together, like it means they have the time and luxury to take it slow, and that’s something he’s never had before. It’s something he treasures now, and wants to enjoy every chance he gets.

Bucky closes his eyes, just enjoying the closeness of the moment. This time last year it’s something he didn’t believe he’d ever have at all, with anyone. He’d recently broken up with Brock, and he was alone and miserable for the holidays. And now here he is, in love with someone that he’s not even sure can possibly be real most days, an amazing man who actually _loves him back._

“Hey yourself,” he murmurs, placing a soft, chaste kiss against Steve’s mouth before rubbing his nose against his right back. 

Steve grins, only able to make it a few more seconds before going in for a kiss of his own. Some days it’s still hard to believe that this is real, that he’s really here, living with Bucky, that they both work _two_ jobs together (if being an Avenger counts) and that means they can share everything. That Bucky knows everything about him, including that he used to be an omega, and that Bucky had bitten Steve the same as Steve had bitten Bucky. It seriously seems like some weird, real-world fairytale sometimes, if he can ignore the things like HYDRA. Which -- well, he can, for small stretches of time. Right now, included. 

“So, are there any other holiday traditions we should start?” he asks, tilting his head to catch Bucky’s cheek with his lips, brushing them over the skin before migrating back to his mouth. “I’m open to more.” 

“I’m open to inventing some of our own,” Bucky tells him, shifting closer so that they’re pressed chest to chest. The feel of Steve’s warmth radiates through his skin and he shivers a little, involuntarily. He considers for a moment. “How do you feel about hot chocolate and ice skating?” he asks, sliding his arms around Steve’s neck. 

Steve hums like that’s a really hard question to answer -- but of course, it really isn’t. “I think I could feel pretty good about them,” he says, leaning closer, so they’re almost breathing each other’s air. “They seem like pretty Christmasy traditions. I haven’t been ice skating in years, though -- I mean, on top of the several decades I spent asleep,” he adds, with a little laugh, because he’s not trying to bring that up to be serious at the moment, of course. “I might be terrible at it. But maybe that’s half the fun?” 

He doesn’t think he’d be terrible at it for very long. And also, making Bucky laugh would be worth it. “Don’t they have ice skating at Rockefeller Center? We should do that.” 

Bucky doubts Steve will be terrible at ice skating. There’s not much he _is_ terrible at. Ice skating is mostly about good balance, and frankly he hasn’t tried it himself since before his stint in the Army but he and Becca used to go a couple times each winter and they always had fun. He makes a mental note to give her a call and see if she’s got plans for the holidays soon. 

“Yeah, they do. And… I think that sounds great. We could make it a date?” There’s maybe the barest hint of hopefulness in his voice as he smiles at Steve, raising his eyebrows. “Ice skating, hot chocolate and dinner?” 

“I think that sounds like a pretty good date,” Steve grins. “I mean. If it’s okay to still go on dates, even if I’m not trying to win you over anymore. Or does that make me sound too smug?” he laughs, letting his fingers brush against the small of Bucky’s back. “I don’t want to make it sound like I’m taking you for granted. I am definitely not.” No, he still feels so, so lucky every single day, and that’s a feeling he hadn’t been sure he’d ever feel again, for a long time. But Bucky’s more than given that back to him, and it just makes him grateful in another way. He owes Bucky so much already; all he can do to repay it is try to be the best mate a guy could ever ask for. And that’s easy to want to do. 

“Um, yes, it’s still okay to go on dates because we make our own rules. Remember?” Bucky smiles at him, eyes bright. They’re the guys who decided that they were going to be together despite all of the crazy obstacles that existed, including Brock trying to force a bond on him and Steve being a literal _superhero_. They decided to go against standard conventions and _both_ be on the receiving end of a mating bite, not just Bucky. And it feels like their relationship is stronger, steadier, for all of it. 

“And I don’t feel like you’re taking me for granted. Though if you wanted to take advantage of me, I did just experience my life flashing before my eyes when I fell off that ladder, so…” He tries very hard not to smirk at Steve. 

Steve, honestly, loves the way their relationship is their own. It doesn’t follow any rules but their own, too, and he can’t imagine anything better. 

Except maybe Bucky’s smirk, which is _amazing_ and he can’t be held accountable for what it makes him want to do. “Hm, that is tempting,” he says, considering for only a few seconds before he takes advantage of where his hands are to slide them down over Bucky’s ass and then beneath his legs so he can hitch Bucky up against his front, trusting in Bucky’s reflexes and the way he’s already got his arms around Steve’s neck to keep him steady. 

“I think I maybe do kinda want to do that? If that’s a thing you might go for, too,” he says with a grin. “Seems like something worth taking advantage _of_.”

Bucky’s legs wrap around Steve’s waist instinctively and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Steve hoists him up. “I really agree,” he responds, leaning forward and trailing his lips down Steve’s neck. “Need to repay you for that amazing catch. Pretty sure I’d be suffering a broken bone or two right now if you hadn’t been there.” And considering the trouble he has with his left arm whenever he’s not wearing the sleeve that Tony had made for him, he knows it wouldn’t have been a good time. 

“Yeah, that would’ve sucked,” Steve agrees -- because it would have; he’s glad he’s fast enough and strong enough to have made that catch before Bucky hit the ground. He hadn’t even been showing off -- just trying to protect the person who matters most to him in the world. “Glad I was here, Think I should maybe stand a little closer when we finish,” he chuckles, nosing at Bucky’s hair, pressing lips to his temple. “Y’know. Later. I think I wanna see what the lights look like in the sleeping loft.” 

Which means he starts shuffling in that direction, given that he’s pretty sure Bucky isn’t going to disagree. He sure hopes not. 

Bucky’s not about to disagree, his body already responding to being pressed so close to Steve. “Definitely later,” he says, nodding, eyes bright as Steve carries him up the steps to the platform and the loft. 

Much, _much_ later. 

***

It is indeed much, much later, as they’re dozing amid the rumpled bedding, when Steve’s phone pings quietly. He makes a soft noise, stretching one arm overhead to pat around for the device without moving away from Bucky to do it, far too warm and comfortable and lazy to want to go very far. 

He finally finds what he’s looking for, pulling it over to thumb at the screen and look at the text messages that have popped up. 

“Huh,” he says, after a moment. “Hey, Tony says Stark Industries is doing a charity thing for Omega Rights. Some big black-tie event to raise money. He… kinda thinks we should come.” 

Steve doesn’t disagree. It’s a pretty big cause for the both of them, given… everything.

Bucky had stirred a little when Steve did, though he hadn’t opened his eyes, too comfortable with his face half buried in the pillow, one of Steve’s arms draped around his bare torso. He forces himself back into a realm of actual consciousness, though, when Steve starts to talk. 

His eyebrows furrow momentarily as he registers the words. He immediately thinks of the last Stark Industries event he’d been at, not by choice, but because of Brock blackmailing him into going. It had been awful, but the end of the night had led to a series of revelations that had changed his life. He’s quiet, thoughtful, tracing nonsensical patterns on Steve’s arm absently. 

“You ready for that kind of spotlight again?” he murmurs. Not that Steve’s ever been _out_ of the spotlight as far as the news is concerned, but they’ve both made efforts to stay away from big crowds and events that involve the media, and at an event of this caliber, they’re sure to be bombarded by the press. 

Steve lets out a breath, setting the phone aside to snuggle back down, closer to Bucky. It’s a reasonable question, really, even if the answer is, “I don’t know if it matters. I mean -- I think if I don’t go, it’s going to be just as conspicuous as if I do.” In which case, “I think it’s better to go.” 

He glances over at Bucky, which really just means turning his head. He shifts one arm a little, so he can get his fingers into Bucky’s hair, stroking softly. “I’d like it if you came with me, but I also understand if you don’t want to.” Bucky’s support for Omega Rights has always been a little more behind the scenes with his activist group, and Steve more than respects that. Bucky has also been thrust into the spotlight a little more than he’d like as an Avenger when it’s maybe not something he’d have chosen otherwise, and Steve wants to respect his privacy, as best he can. 

It’s been so nice -- and quiet, relatively speaking -- for the past few months. Steve wishes they didn’t have to upend that, even if it was always going to happen, one way or another. 

Bucky hums quietly at the feel of Steve’s fingers in his hair, body still feeling so relaxed and sated, heavy with a feeling of comfort and safety. He opens his eyes to gaze at Steve, searching his face and seeing the resolve there. A tiny smile makes his lips quirk upward. “Where you go, I go,” he murmurs. “Sorta the heart of the whole deal.” 

He’s not about to let Steve go into a perpetual lion’s den by himself, even if technically he _wouldn’t_ be alone; Tony and Pepper, at the very least, would be there. Probably some of the other Avengers, too. But that’s beside the point. _He_ is Steve’s soulmate. Not the others. And it’ll be him standing proudly at Steve’s side, facing whatever comes at them from the press or anyone else. 

Steve’s lips curve up into a smile that he can’t hide -- and doesn’t want to, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead this time. “Have I mentioned I love you recently?” He has, quite often, but that doesn’t change the facts right now -- he does love Bucky, and every day he’s pretty sure he loves him a little more. It’s not hard. Not at all. 

Bucky’s smile brightens at those whispered words and he lets his eyes close when he feels Steve’s lips against his forehead. “The feeling is very much mutual,” he tells him honestly. He rests his hand against Steve’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over his jaw. 

“It won’t be like the last one,” Steve adds, because he remembers just as well as Bucky what had happened then. It’s funny, really, how it had been so horrible and such a good thing, all at once. “This one’ll be better. I mean… we’ll probably get hounded a bit by the press when we get there, but -- the actual party shouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Can’t even be too bothered by the last one, considering the outcome,” Bucky admits, opening his eyes again. “But it'll be a lot better anyway, just because I’ll be with you.” And as cheesy or sappy as it sounds, he _does_ always feel better when he’s with Steve. He feels more content, like breathing is just a little easier. 

“It did turn out pretty well, even if it took some doing to get there,” Steve agrees, remembering how horrible Brock Rumlow had acted -- but how it really had turned out all right, in the end. He’s just damned glad he’d followed Bucky and Brock out of that party, that night. 

And now, everything is definitely good. And this event will go much more smoothly, he’s sure of it. Plus, it will be good for people to see Bucky at official Avengers functions, as long as Bucky is okay with being there. That’s the most important part. “It’ll be good to go -- to show our support. We both know how important it is, you know?” So at least they can stand together and support something that needs the boost. 

Bucky brushes his thumb over Steve’s lower lip. “You’re right. It’s important. We need to be there. Together.” 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Together. That’s how we do this. And it’s how I want people to see us doing this. Practice what we preach, right?” The best way to change things, he thinks, is to show people how it can look. And they’re pretty much the perfect example of that.

“Right,” Bucky agrees quietly, nodding and smiling softly when Steve presses a kiss to the pad of his thumb. 

“Plus, free food, free booze, and I get to dance with you,” Steve adds. “It might even be fun.” 

“And those all sound like good reasons to go if you ask me,” Bucky says. And it’s no joke that things have heated up on the Omega Rights front since the revelation that Captain America, revered hero to so many, had once been an omega himself. There are still demonstrations and rallies going on around not just the country, but the entire _world_. They’d quite unintentionally started a revolution. 

Granted, it needed to happen. 

He’s just not sure either of them ever intended to be the rallying cry. But it’s what happened, and he knows they’re both doing their best to take it into stride. Some countries have even started changing policies that have banned omegas from owning their own businesses or even renting houses. Bucky knows it’s going to take time to get things where they _should_ be, but he’s hopeful that the day is approaching that people will be equal regardless of their biological designation -- or their forced one, depending upon circumstances. 

He’s also hoping he’s HYDRA’s only success on that, though he’s sure there are others. There has to be, and undoubtedly they’re in hiding if they’d gone from being an alpha or a beta and been forced into being an omega. 

If they’d gone the other route… that’s almost as scary, for other reasons. 

Intentional or not, Steve’s glad that they can be the faces of change. At least things are changing, clearly faster than they had in the past seventy years. And he gets to be here to see it happen -- and to help it happen. Sometimes, that feels more important than being on the Avengers. And he _knows_ that’s important. 

“So I guess I’m texting Tony back yes,” he says, although he makes no move to actually pull his phone back over. Tony can wait. The gala isn’t going anywhere, and it’s still nice, snuggled up with Bucky in the dimly lit loft. “I don’t think we’ll have to do much other than show up and talk to patrons. That’s usually what these things entail. I guess you didn’t really see me much during the last one but… it’s a little annoying, but sometimes you can make a difference. Tony or Pepper will do the real public speaking, at least.” 

“That’s good. That’s… definitely not my forte.” At all. Bucky doesn’t have a phobia of public speaking or anything, but it’s not something he enjoys, either. He shifts a little closer to Steve, resting his forehead against Steve’s and letting his eyes close once more, sliding his arm around his waist and tucking himself into his chest. He sighs contently, sliding his leg between Steve’s, not trying to start anything, but just enjoying the quiet intimacy. 

“This is nice,” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, settling down a little more, reaching up to card his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Yeah, it really is.” He puts his head down on the pillow for a moment, watching the lights strung up around them. “I really used to like Christmas, actually. I’m kinda glad I’ve got a good reason to like it again.” It had really lost its luster for a long time, between his mother dying, the war, the ice, and everything else. But now it feels like it’s new again, and it’s just one more thing he’s utterly grateful to Bucky for. 

“We should have our own party. Smaller. Maybe sometime after the gala?” 

Bucky opens his eyes and lets himself stare up at the lights, too, as he listens. But Steve’s idea catches him off guard, if only because he’d been sure parties are a thing Steve isn’t a fan of, in general. “Yeah?” He rubs his hand over Steve’s bare back, fingertips trailing over the muscles and making nonsensical patterns on his skin. 

“Are you thinking for Christmas, or New Year’s? Or just a general party?” 

“I dunno,” Steve hums, relaxing into Bucky’s soft touch. Bucky’s not wrong. Parties aren’t really his scene, usually -- well. Not parties like Stark’s galas. But a couple of people over for something quiet, where he doesn’t have to put on a persona? That’s the kind of party Steve could get behind. 

“I was thinking Christmas, but maybe New Year’s is better. Or -- we should invite Becca. Maybe we’ll just have it whenever she’s available? Let that determine which one we have.” 

Bucky’s eyes light up at that. “Yeah, I was actually thinking earlier about how I need to call her and see if she’s got any plans for the holidays,” he admits. “She hasn’t been to Brooklyn in a while.” Not since he’d been in the hospital, after being captured by HYDRA and AWOL for weeks. Not the best memories to have. 

“We could do something with her and the Avengers, maybe?” He knows Becca would be thrilled to meet the rest of their team. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Steve confirms, grinning a little. “Let her meet the team, let them meet her… sit back and watch that unfold,” he adds, with a laugh. “I think they’ll be able to handle her.” 

The truth is, he really likes Becca, and has from the start. He thinks his -- their -- teammates will, too. And hopefully she’ll like them in return. But it seems like it’s worth giving them all the chance to get to know each other. 

“I’m also willing to fly out and get her if we have to,” Steve hums. “Sometimes having rich friends who supply quinjets for the team has its perks, you know?”

Bucky’s pretty sure if he hadn’t already been in love with Steve, his willingness to literally fly and pick up Bucky’s sister would have done the trick. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmurs, letting his hand drift back up to cup his cheek once more. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Steve’s mouth. 

“Pretty sure _I’m_ the one who’s lucky,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s lips. “But if you feel really strongly about it, I guess we could be lucky together.” Finding Bucky has been like finding _home_ again in so many ways, when he thought that was a feeling that was long gone. “Maybe a couple more times, before we get back to decorating?” he laughs, rolling over a little better so he can press up even closer against Bucky. He’s always willing to be told no, but hopefully Bucky might be feeling magnanimous. ‘Tis the season, and all. 

***

The Stark gala is nothing short of stunning in its elegance. Even in a tuxedo and bowtie, Bucky finds himself feeling underdressed and way, _way_ out of his element. Still, having Steve at his side as they walk into the entrance of the ballroom helps. And Steve looks even more gorgeous than usual, decked out in his own tuxedo and leaving very little doubt that, bonded soulmates or not, Steve could literally have his pick of mates, omega, beta, _or_ alpha. 

Well, the joke’s on Bucky because no matter how many people there are in this room, Steve’s gaze keeps on drifting back to Bucky in that tux, because he looks like a million bucks in it. Steve sticks close as they wind their way into the room -- well, floor, really, since the gala is taking up a whole floor of the tower that Steve is pretty sure Tony specifically designed for this kind of thing -- and get the lay of the land. 

“Wow,” Bucky murmurs, his arm tightening around Steve’s just a little, unconsciously. The music softly drifting through the air is by an actual orchestra set up in the corner, and he’s not even surprised that Tony went the extra mile. 

Steve leans a little closer as he feels Bucky’s arm tighten. “Right? Tony really knows how to throw a party. Honestly, you have no idea how glad I am that you’re here. Usually I’m here on my own and it’s… a lot.” Steve is very good at pretending he’s not overwhelmed, on the outside. But he definitely can get overwhelmed, and parties like this are one of the things that’ll do it. He always ends up back in memories of Brooklyn before the war, when he was just a clumsy wallflower that no one wanted to talk to or dance with. No matter how many people want to talk to him and shake his hand and take a selfie with him these days, he still feels a little like that skinny kid, and probably always will. 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, taking in the crowd. Everyone’s decked out in the fanciest clothes he’s seen in a while -- since Tony’s last event that he’d come to, albeit against his will. He hadn’t exactly been paying that close of attention to what the other partygoers had been wearing then, mostly focused on the fact that he didn’t want to be there at all. 

This time, though, he’s glad to be here, especially because he’s here with the person he loves more than anyone in the world. 

“You wanna see what they have for snacks?” Steve asks, cocking a little grin. That seems like a good place to start. 

A soft laugh escapes Bucky at the suggestion and he gives Steve a knowing look. “Yeah. But I’m not eating caviar, just so we’re clear,” he informs him. 

Steve laughs, too. “It’s not actually that bad, but -- hey. I won’t force you. It’s definitely not filling,” he teases and, leaning in for a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, starts them moving in the direction of the refreshments. Yeah, okay, Steve could pretty much always eat, but it seems like a good way to also scope out the room and maybe take the edge off, a little. “There’s also a whole table just for desserts, usually. I’m okay starting there.” Just for the record. 

Of course, they only make it most of the way to the refreshment tables before they’re waylaid by Tony himself, striding up to them with Pepper on his arm. “Glad to see you,” he says, while Pepper smiles at them almost apologetically, as though she knew they were heading for the food. “What do you think? We really wanted to go all out this year. Important cause.” 

Bucky offers the couple an easy smile, because truth be told he likes them both pretty well. Tony can be arrogant a lot of the time, but he’s been around him to know that most of that is an act meant to keep people from getting too close. “It’s great, Tony,” he tells him honestly. “Hell of a turnout, too.” The place is packed, which isn’t a surprise. His parties and galas are legendary at this point. 

“Most of the team is here,” Pepper tells them, voice hushed. “Except Bruce. He was a little concerned about the crowd being too much.” 

Steve nods; “Thought I saw Natasha as we were walking in, but you kind of never know,” he adds, with a laugh -- although Tony just rolls his eyes. “But that’s good. I’m glad everyone could make it, for the most part.” And, honestly, he completely understands about Bruce. Hopefully the party he and Bucky want to have later this month will be a little more appealing -- and a lot less stressful. 

“Well, thanks to you two, Omega Rights is pretty much the hottest ticket in town,” Tony says, glancing between the two of them. “So I hope you’re ready to work the room -- ow,” he says, right as Pepper swats at him. 

“Tony. They’re guests,” she says, “because we invited them as guests.” She glances over to the two of them. “You might be approached by a few patrons -- as Steve knows, it happens around here, when you’re recognizable. But you don’t have to do anything more than talk to them for a few minutes. I promise.” 

Bucky does his best to keep a straight face at the other couple’s interaction. “Yeah, we figured that might happen,” he assures her. “It’ll be fine. We’re as prepared as we can be, I think.” He gives her a soft smile, reaching up absently to make sure his tie isn’t crooked. “Though to be fair, I think it was the two of you who started the ball rolling. The Omega Rights Community went kind of wild when you signed Stark Industries over to Pepper,” he tells Tony, voice quiet enough that only the four of them can hear. 

“Well, good,” Tony says, looking more than a little pleased. “I mean -- I knew that. It wasn’t why I did it, of course, but…” 

“We figured that might happen,” Pepper finishes for him, with a smile that appears shy, but Steve can tell is absolutely not. That’s Pepper’s _pleased_ smile. “It seemed like the perfect way to make waves without actually coming out and saying that’s what we were doing.” 

“Also, I just felt like it,” Tony interjects, to which Pepper sighs and adds, “And he just felt like it.” 

Steve has to laugh just a little. That’s pretty much Tony -- doing things with no plan but also a very well thought-out plan, all at the same time. Maybe that’s why they get along -- at least, when they do get along. 

“It was a good move, either way. Pepper, you’re absolutely the best person for the job. Offense intended,” he adds, grinning at Tony like an idiot. 

Bucky chuckles quietly, knowing that Steve’s teasing Tony and because of the mock offended look on Tony’s face in response. He’s regularly amused by the interactions between Tony and Steve, because they’re so damn different but at the end of the day, he thinks they’re both always trying to do what they each think is the right thing to do. He gets that. He leans into Steve a little, thumb rubbing absently over his bicep. 

“Well, with any luck enough people will start realizing that everyone should have rights, regardless of their designation,” Bucky says, glancing around the room. And sure enough, the four of them have already gotten some attention from a few of the attendees, who look like they’re trying to either work up the courage to approach or are waiting for them to split off into smaller factions. He just hopes they’re all the friendly sort. 

Steve’s stupid grin turns a little softer, soothed by the way Bucky’s touching him, sure, but also by what he says. And he’s noticing, too, the way they’re getting looks; he tilts his head a bit, assuming that Pepper and Tony have noticed the same. 

“I agree,” he says. “And I think we should make sure some of these people do, too?” He figures it’ll be easier if they split up -- it’ll make them easier to approach, and it’ll also be easier to hold a conversation. 

Pepper smiles at them, nodding even as Tony says, “I’m definitely offended, Cap. This isn’t the end of it,” but lets a laughing Pepper start to lead him off. 

Steve turns his smile back on Bucky. “If we want to grab a plate of food, we should do it now. Before we get accosted.” 

It’s easy to forget there’s a room full of people ready to question him within an inch of his existence when Steve Rogers is smiling at him like that. Bucky’s lips curl upwards instinctively. “Yeah. Come on, soldier. Let’s get something to eat.” He leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, unable to resist the urge. 

“You’re the soldier, Soldier,” Steve murmurs, but he maybe tilts his head at the last moment to catch Bucky’s lips -- if briefly -- before he straightens and gets them moving toward the food. It really does look like a good spread, and he’s maybe a little eager to get that fortification before anyone approaches them and they get distracted. He knows all too well how these things go, and how sometimes talking to one person turns into talking to five more. 

Although there’s a part of him still determined to enjoy this night at least a little, even if they are “working” some of it. So if he’s got to beg off after a while to give Bucky a whirl around the dance floor… well, he absolutely will. There’s a live band -- well, orchestra. He’s not passing up that chance. 

***

Bucky’s eyes are closed as he and Steve dance cheek to cheek, swaying in time with the soft melody that the orchestra is playing. It isn’t the first time they’ve danced together, even if it’s the first time they’ve danced with one another in a public setting. Wrapped up in Steve’s arms, it’s easy to forget they’re surrounded by other people and that they aren’t alone. He tends to forget other people exist sometimes when they’re together. 

“The music’s nice,” he murmurs, voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Steve hums, honestly pretty much in heaven right now, no matter that they’re technically “working” a gala for charity. Right now, none of that matters, because he’s got Bucky in his arms and it’s perfectly okay. It’s perfectly _right_. “Feels kinda like it used to. Not that I ever really danced with anyone like this at any parties,” he adds, with a soft laugh. But he’d watched people dancing. And maybe been jealous, underneath it all. 

But now he has no reason to be jealous, because he’s got everything he could ever want. “As long as it stays slow,” he adds, with a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” 

If anything, that confession makes Bucky shift closer to him, resting his palm on the back of Steve’s neck, gently brushing through his hair there. “Been awhile for me, too,” he tells him. “Probably since… high school? And uh, it was with a girl.” Because back then he’d been pretending to be someone he wasn’t, but those days are long gone now. “Gotta say this is a lot better.” 

Steve laughs again, but his eyes flutter closed for a moment, too, enjoying the touch to his neck. “Hey, girls are great. But I’m kinda glad you aren’t with one now.” Because this _is_ a lot better than any alternative Steve can imagine. 

“It’d be very awkward if you wished I was,” Bucky responds with a huff of a laugh. He thinks he can feel Steve’s heartbeat jump when he touches his neck and it sends a little thrill down his spine, knowing the kind of effect he has on the other man even as he knows Steve has the same exact effect on him. 

“How’re you holding up?” Steve asks, because he knows that although this evening has been fun, it’s been a bit of work, too. He thinks Bucky’s handled himself admirably, and fortunately no one has been rude or even asked questions that are too invasive, but it’s still being under more a spotlight than they have been in a while. And Steve’s more used to it than Bucky. 

“I’m good,” Bucky assures him, pressing a tender kiss to his jaw. It’s been a long night, but overall, it’s been good. And the gala is starting to wind down a little, so he figures they’ve got maybe an hour left and they can split and head home for the evening. “You?”

“I’m good, too, although that’s mostly because of the company,” Steve grins, brushing a thumb over the fabric at Bucky’s hip. “Got the best dance partner in the whole --” 

He starts a little, jumping as he accidentally backs into someone else on the dance floor. Jesus, he doesn’t know what he just brushed against, but it actually hurt. “Oh -- geez, sorry, pal,” he says, pausing to look over at the couple, a man and a woman, probably looking as sheepish as Steve feels. “I kinda forgot there were other people around.” 

But the woman is flapping her hand, even as the guy laughs a little and says, “No, it’s okay. Us, too, I think. We’re sorry.” 

Steve rubs at his side a little, but the sting is fading and he still can’t quite figure out what he bumped into, but, “As long as you’re all right,” he says, hoping he’s the only one who felt that. 

Bucky smiles, bemused at the exchange, even though he frowns when he sees Steve rubbing at his side. “You okay?” He reaches out to touch the spot, glancing at the couple already disappearing into the crowd and trying to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turns his attention back to Steve. 

“What just happened?” he asks uncertainly.

Steve just shakes his head. “It’s fine. Kinda hurt, is all.” He huffs a soft laugh. “Maybe I’m just going soft.” But really, “I probably just backed into something the wrong way. It barely hurt, just surprised me.” 

He ducks his head a little, admitting, “I really didn’t notice them. Guess I only have eyes for you.” 

Bucky studies Steve critically for a moment before relaxing, nodding and letting it go since Steve dismisses it. “Think anyone would get pissed if we cut out early?” he asks, shifting closer to Steve once more, resting his hands on his shoulders and smiling softly. “Kinda got some ideas for things that involve a lot fewer people and… also fewer clothes.” 

“Well, now that you say that, I have to admit that I don’t care if they get pissed,” Steve grins, leaning in for a kiss -- right when the lights flicker and he frowns, straightening up again. “What was that?” he asks, as his phone pings and he pulls it out to see that it’s a text from Tony. 

“There’s something going on,” he frowns. “A few blocks away.” Just then, Bucky’s phone pings -- likely with the same message. Steve’s already typing when a message pops up from Natasha: _Clint and I can check it out._

_Not without me you’re not,_ Tony replies. _If it’s related to the power grid, I want in._

Well. So much for his idea about sneaking Steve out of there for a little alone time, Bucky thinks with a sigh, even as he reads the same message on his own phone. He types out a quick message in response -- _We’ll hold down the fort_ \-- and tucks his phone away once more, glancing up when the power flickers again but doesn’t go out. 

“This doesn’t seem like a good thing,” he mumbles. He just hopes it’s not an alien attack. He’d missed it when it happened, but he’s not exactly sad about having lost out on that one. 

Steve texts a confirmation to Bucky’s message, reaching over to pull him close even as the lights stay on. “Not really, no,” he says, with an undercurrent of regret in his voice -- he’d wanted to duck out early, too, but that’s definitely not happening now. 

Bucky does his best to ignore the way his insides melt when Steve pulls him close, protectively. He’s not really sure if it’s a Steve thing or an alpha thing, but it makes his heart skip nonetheless. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, I’m so sorry for the interruption,” Tony calls over the concerned murmur of the guests. “But you do happen to be at a party with the Avengers, and some of us need to get to work. I leave you in the capable hands of the Stark Industries CEO, Pepper Potts -- and Captain America and the Winter Soldier, of course.” 

Steve smiles as some of the faces turn to them, offering a little salute. “We’ll hold down the fort here, Stark. Good luck.” 

Bucky draws in a deep breath at Tony’s announcement, glancing at him and then at Steve, smirking a little at the salute. He straightens when he hears his own codename mentioned, looking around at the people now looking to him and Steve to make sure they stay safe, and grows somber. 

Whatever’s going on probably isn’t good, and he wants to be on top of his game if he needs to be.

He hopes he won’t have to be. Hopes that this is just a false alarm. But when the power goes out as soon as Tony and the others have left the building, he’s pretty sure that it’s not a coincidence.

Steve _really_ doesn’t like the way things are headed -- they’d only just been starting to calm the guests and get the band playing again when the tower is plunged into darkness. 

He blinks a couple of times, trying to focus his low-light vision, but it is _really_ dark in here. Shit, if he can barely see, most people are probably having an even harder time. He digs in his pocket just as it seems like others are getting the idea, and cellphone flashlights start to pop on around the room. “All right,” he says, trying to make sure his voice carries. “Let’s all make sure we’re someplace safe where no one can knock into anything or trip. Be careful and try to find a seat or some open floor.” 

Bucky grimaces, reaching out and squeezing Steve’s arm briefly. “I’m gonna try and help people move to the edges of the room,” he tells him even as people quiet down in the wake of Steve’s _Captain America_ voice. “Meet you in the middle in a few?” His voice is hushed. 

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, leaning closer even before he realizes what he’s doing. “Okay. Be careful.” There’s just something in him that’s on edge -- but of course, that makes sense. Things are not exactly normal right now. “I’ll make sure no one’s hurt, and then find Pepper.” 

He leans in, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple, and then steps away because they’ve got a job to do and they know it. He starts heading for where he’d last seen Pepper, still blinking a little in the dark, taking it slow, even as everything around him starts to quiet down. Or maybe it’s taking on a… muted sort of feeling? It’s hard to describe, like someone’s stuffing his ears with cotton, but it isn’t until he actually stumbles just as the dim, red emergency lighting comes on that he knows something’s really wrong. 

The guys dressed in black and holding high-caliber weapons definitely don’t help the situation any. “All right,” the one at the front says, voice carrying throughout the room even as people start murmuring again. “We’re gonna need everyone to stay right where they are, and this can be easy for all of us. We just need Captain America and the Winter Soldier. No one else needs to be involved.” 

Bucky’s in the process of helping an elderly woman to a chair when that chilling announcement is made. His spine stiffens, everything within him going still. He knows that man’s voice, even if he doesn’t know his name. He remembers hearing that voice while he’d been pinned down to a metal table and tortured for hours on end. 

HYDRA. 

Because of course. Immediately his eyes scan the dimly lit room for Steve, spotting him far too close to the men with weapons for his liking. He ignores the way his heart starts beating faster in his chest. “Guess you came to the right gala,” he says, making a show of putting his hands in the air and slowly stepping away from the other guests. 

“Or the wrong one,” Steve mutters quietly, of half a mind to just jump on the nearest guy and start bashing heads -- 

But he can’t. They have automatic weapons and this is a room full of civilians. Well, shit. Bucky’s got the right play, little though Steve likes it. He takes a breath but straightens and holds up his hands, too, not really approaching, but not doing anything else, either. His eyes flick over to Bucky, but then back to the man in charge. “We’re right here. Why don’t we take this outside and you can -- do whatever it is you’re here to do, away from all of these fine people.” 

“You know, that is the idea,” the man says, sounding casual, even if nothing in his body language implies it. “Honestly, we’d like you to come with us. Like I said -- no one else needs to be involved. In fact, I think we’d all prefer it.”

“By all means,” Bucky responds, still moving slowly enough to try and indicate he’s not about to attack them. “Lead the way, fellas.” He lets his gaze flicker momentarily to Steve before fixing back on the men once more. There are only three of them that he can see but he’s not convinced there aren’t more of them in the room in case they try to pull something. That’s HYDRA for you. 

“Barnes,” one of them greets, and he does his best not to let the recognition show on his face. “Knew I’d see you again sooner or later.” 

He cocks his head. “Did we meet sometime and I don’t remember it?”

The guy makes a derisive noise. “Don’t know if you could call it _meeting_. But we have.” His eyes flick down to Bucky’s arm, but he doesn’t say more than that. 

Of course, Steve had already had plenty of suspicions, but… that confirms it. HYDRA. Definitely HYDRA. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, though,” he points out. 

The guy glances over his shoulder. “Well. We’ll see if that changes.” 

“Pleasure might be a bit of an overstatement,” Bucky mutters just loud enough for Steve to hear as the men lead them out of the ballroom. “What’s this about?” he asks, not yet going for the guns strapped to his ankles but knowing that’s going to happen before much longer. He grits his teeth when he feels the barrel of a gun in his back. 

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that, Soldier. We have some unfinished business to attend to.” 

Hearing that makes Steve feel cold all over. “You realize things aren’t going to go your way,” he says. “You think we’re going to leave this tower with you, but even just between the two of us --” 

“Yeah, yeah. What about if there’s just one of you?” the man asks, glancing between them. 

“Is that a threat?” Steve asks, quiet and low, feeling his blood begin to boil. 

“Everything’s a threat, we’re on opposite sides here and we really do only need one of you. And, sorry Cap, but it won’t be you.” 

Bucky feels his insides grow cold at those words. He flicks a glance at Steve, sensing he’s about to make some kind of move and wishing he could actually read his mind. Still, there are advantages to fighting side by side with your soulmate, even if you can’t hear their thoughts. He veers to the left, rushing hard into one of the other guys and slamming him into the wall just as Steve does the same to the guy on the right, disarming both of the men quickly even as the third points his gun at Steve. 

He doesn’t even hesitate to block the barrel of the gun with his left hand, which is thankfully wrapped in the vibranium sleeve that Tony made him, bullets raining down to the ground instantly upon discharge. 

As soon as Bucky starts moving, Steve is moving, too. Even if they can’t communicate without words, they both spring at the same time. And if Steve hadn’t had his hands full, he’d have had more attention to spare for watching how utterly _amazing_ Bucky is. Not that he can’t split his attention -- he can, it’s one of his strong suits -- but right now, he’s got a lot of people to protect. Bucky is one of them, but it’s so many more than that, because every person in the room behind them is basically a hostage. 

So Steve puts his energy and attention into twisting and throwing himself at the nearest guy with a gun to slam him into the wall. 

But the thing is -- the thing is, it works. They go careening into the wall. And right about then is when Steve feels a wave of nausea and vertigo wash over him like he’s just stepped into a cold shower. 

He gasps, stumbling away from the guy, but it doesn’t pass. If anything, it gets worse -- his head is spinning and pounding, his blood is rushing in his ears, and he staggers back into the wall, hitting his shoulder, trying to stay upright as it feels like every muscle in his body loses its ability to hold him up. “Wha --?” 

Bucky turns at the sound of Steve’s gasp, fingers circling the man’s wrist and squeezing just hard enough to make him drop his weapon to the floor. “Steve,” he calls, worry shooting through him as he sees him stumble and fall against the wall, his face draining of all color. “Steve!” He shoves the guy he’s grappling with hard into the wall, knocking him out before he moves to Steve’s side, even as he hears shouting in the ballroom. 

“Poison,” one of the men says with a smirk, even as he struggles to get back up to his feet from where he’d hit the ground. 

Steve feels like he’s on a merry-go-round that’s going far too fast. He can’t really keep his feet under him, sliding down the wall as he hears Bucky -- thinks he hears him, at least -- distantly. He blinks, vision going fuzzy, and tries to clear it, shaking his head a little. “But I --” He’s immune to most poisons, he wants to say. 

But clearly not this one. And -- HYDRA had that gas. Before. They know how his metabolism works. They were SHIELD. They know exactly all of his capabilities. And how to take him down. 

He feels sick, but even he sees the men starting to get up again. “Buck -- Buck, deal with them,” he mumbles, trying to push himself back to standing, because he’s got to. He’s got to get back up, get on his feet, help Bucky or Bucky’s going to get hurt worrying about Steve. And he can’t let that happen. He can’t let them hurt Bucky. Or take him away. 

Dread surges through Bucky as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist to try and help support him. He reaches for his own weapon, yanking the gun from its holster on his ankle and firing it at one of the men who’s back up, hitting him in the gut. He doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt over it even as the guy drops to the floor, blood already beginning to pool. “Come on, stay up, Steve,” he urges, heart pounding hard in his chest. Poison. When had that happened? How had they missed it? 

He doesn’t have time to register the fact that suddenly there’s another gun trained on them. There isn’t time to think, let alone move. But in the blink of an eye, the guy aiming it at them hits the ground and Bucky blinks a couple of times as a new person is left standing there in his place, a gun in his hand as he looks at Bucky and Steve, then gives a half smile. 

“Seemed like you might need some assistance,” the man tells them. 

Steve is paying attention as best he can. He is, really. But he’s only getting maybe half of what’s going on, because standing up and not throwing up are taking up nearly all of his attention. He slumps heavily into Bucky even without meaning to, even as he blinks at the newcomer. Dark skin, dark hair, neat goatee, weapon held at the ready, like he knows how to use it. 

Of course, all Steve can do is make a confused sound; that makes the guy frown a little, even as he trains the gun on one of the last few bad guys still standing. “He okay?” he asks, glancing at Steve. 

Bucky’s grip on Steve tightens just a little, half because he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t, Steve’s going to slump to the floor, and half because he’s terrified to let go of him in general. “I don’t think so,” he admits, voice grim. “They said they poisoned him.” 

He starts to say something else when a loud alarm begins going off in the building and he looks up toward the ceiling. 

“JARVIS, what’s happening?” Bucky asks nervously. 

“Mr. Stark has activated the emergency lockdown mode for the tower, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS informs him. “There appear to be more HYDRA members inside, and several are heading in your direction. Would you like me to guide you to a safe room?” 

“Yes,” he answers immediately. 

The alarm sounds like an ice pick in Steve’s brain; he flinches but can only get one hand up to his ears. The other is trying to keep his grip on Bucky, even if he’s not sure what good it will do either of them. He isn’t sure what’s going on, but finally, he manages to make a coherent sound: “Pepper,” he mumbles, trying to pull Bucky back in the direction of the rest of the floor, where Pepper and all the guests are. 

The new guy glances back over his shoulder. “I think she’s got it handled, man. You’re what they want, it sounded like.” 

“He is correct, Miss Potts is gathering the guests and the intruders did specifically say you were their target,” JARVIS says. Then, “Sergeant Barnes, I’ve sent the directions to a secure room one floor down to your phone.”

Bucky pulls out his phone and scans the directions before squatting down and picking Steve up in a fireman’s hold. He’s heavy, but Bucky’s strong. “Just hang on, Stevie,” he murmurs, leading the way down the darkened corridor and pausing when a secret passage slides open in the wall. “Tony, I love you.” He ducks into the spot, glancing over his shoulder to make sure their new ally is following. 

He’s following, keeping close behind Bucky and trying to keep an eye on the stairwell door. When the panel in the wall slides open, he’s got to cock an eyebrow. “For real? I’m not sure if I’m impressed or amused.” But at least it gives them a hiding place. He quickly follows Bucky inside; as soon as the panel slides shut, LEDs start to come to life, lighting the room -- not so small, actually -- in a soft glow. 

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks, while Steve just tries to get his bearings -- slowly, and maybe not so successfully. He’s still dizzy and definitely has no idea where they are, given that he couldn’t quite see where they were going. “Hide here? I feel like that’s only going to go over so well for so long.” 

Bucky extends his hand once he’s carefully set Steve down in one of the chairs, keeping his left hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. He knows the guy’s right, that hiding isn’t a good long-term plan, but right now his main concern is Steve. “What’s your name? I’m Bucky.” 

“Sam,” he replies, shifting the gun to one hand so he can take Bucky’s hand and shake it, grip firm but friendly. “Wilson. Ex-Air Force. Not quite the gala experience I was expecting tonight, but I guess it could always be worse.” 

Of course, he peers at Steve, who’s still blinking slowly and trying to keep his wits together. “Although I don’t know that he’s had many worse days. They said poison?” 

Steve nods clumsily, trying to get his eyes to focus on Bucky. “Feel like shit,” he manages to get out, trying to add a dumb, cocky smile, but not sure he’s really succeeding. 

He isn’t. 

“Gotta say, pretty glad you were here,” Bucky tells Sam honestly. He looks back at Steve. “We need to get some water in you.” Over the last few months, he’s spent a lot of time with Dr. Cho, who’s told him about the importance of flushing his system with water because it’ll help him metabolize things quicker if it’s something bad or even toxic. The same has got to be true for Steve. “Will you fall over if I move away?” His voice is quiet, concerned. 

“Prob’ly not?” Steve manages, and this time, the dumb smile’s a little closer to on the mark. Even so, he slumps in the chair a little, hoping that if he’s just… got to support less of his weight, it’ll go better. At least he seems to be getting used to how he feels -- it’s not exactly getting better, but he’s adaptable, if nothing else. And he has spent plenty of his life feeling sick and powering through it. 

Sam, meanwhile, is skirting the edges of the room, and makes a little, “Ah-hah,” sound, reaching down to grab and hold up what appears to be a bottle of water. “Ask, and Mr. Stark provides, I guess.” He glances at Bucky, then makes a slow toss his way. 

“Guess he musta been a boy scout,” Bucky responds, catching the bottle and opening it, pushing it up to Steve’s lips. “Take a drink, sweetheart,” he murmurs, resting his free hand on Steve’s knee to help steady him enough to sit up a little better. 

“I feel like that’s an insult to the boy scouts,” Sam chuckles, although he’s watching as Bucky presses the bottle to Steve’s lips and Steve obediently brings up one hand to try to hold it as he takes a few careful drinks. He still feels nauseous but he knows that Bucky’s not wrong -- water won’t hurt him, and it will probably help. He’s just not all that keen to drink too much. 

Bucky glances up at Sam once more, gears turning in his brain. “Ex-Air Force. Any chance you got some basic medical skills under your belt?” he asks hopefully. 

“Actually, it’s your lucky day,” Sam says, finally coming back over. “Ex-pararescue, if you want to be more specific.” He frowns at Steve. “Although I don’t know anything about super soldier biology.” Not that he thinks it’s all that different from normal biology, underneath. Just -- maybe a little more complicated.

Relief washes over Bucky at Sam’s words and he actually closes his eyes for a second. “We metabolise faster than most people. With any luck we can flush whatever they dosed him with out of his system.” 

Sam nods at the explanation, coming closer and reaching out to take Steve’s free hand, fingers moving to his wrist to get a feel for his pulse. “So they knew they had a ticking clock over their heads when they started,” Sam’s guessing. “And now we need to make it run faster.” 

“M’fine,” Steve tries to protest, but he’s pretty sure nobody here is going to having any of that. 

Bucky glances back at Sam, studying him for a moment. “Can I trust you to take care of him?” Brock Rumlow notwithstanding, he’s always been a pretty great judge of character. And if he’s got it right, Sam Wilson is a good guy. 

“You can,” he says, “but that means I’ve gotta ask -- where are you gonna be?” 

Steve just raises an eyebrow as eloquently as he can, as if to say, _What he said_. 

A dark, dangerous smile flickers across Bucky’s lips and he cocks his gun. “I’m going to make them regret they ever met me.”


	2. Chapter 2

For a room that’s full of people, the ballroom at Stark tower is far too quiet for Bucky’s liking as he creeps through the duct work above the room, guided by Jarvis’s silent instructions to his phone. He does his best to focus on the task ahead and not the worry still thrumming through his veins for Steve and his current condition. It isn’t the first time HYDRA’s tried to kill Steve Rogers, and he’s survived every attempt so far. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in that this time won’t be any different.

He peers down through a vent, silently observing the room and searching for any and all suspects. He picks out four immediately. He wishes suddenly for his sniper rifle from his Army days, because he could take one of them out from this position no problem, but the moment he pulls the trigger the entire room is going to know what’s happening. It would cause chaos. More people would be hurt, or worse. He licks his lips, gaze shifting to Pepper at the front of the room, sitting down and looking far too calm as a man with a gun towers over her from behind. 

Bastards. All of them. 

He takes a slow, deep breath and continues to observe the room, takes note of another HYDRA suspect in the far corner, talking on a cell phone, probably getting orders from whoever’s running the show now that Pierce is out of the picture. 

He needs a plan. 

Pepper is not completely unused to situations like this going south. Not after what had happened to Tony in Afghanistan, and not after a few close calls since he’d signed Stark Enterprises over to her and people had taken issue with her designation. She’s always been aware of the vulnerabilities, and always been aware that what she does matters. What she does here could get people hurt -- or save them. 

And for all she knows, she’s alone. Several soldiers -- if that’s even what they are -- had taken Captain America and the Winter Soldier about 30 minutes ago. Since then, more have appeared, each new figure making the crowd twitter more nervously than before. She’s not sure whether Tony and the others know what’s happening, although she has to assume JARVIS has gotten a message out. So mostly what she needs to do now is wait. 

But she’s really not thrilled with that plan of action. “Whatever you want, you’re not going to get it,” she says. “I realize it’s very cliche to say, but I think it’s still true. 

“Shut up,” says the soldier behind her, with the gun trained to her head. She has to commend him; it hasn't wavered. “You don’t know what we want.” 

“I would if you told me,” she says sweetly. 

“Shut _up_ he says again, and she hears him shuffle closer. 

Bucky tenses as the man gets closer to the woman, someone he doesn’t know very well but has come to like and respect. She’s been nice to him the few times they’ve interacted, and Tony -- Tony is his teammate. And Pepper is his girlfriend. 

An idea strikes him; not a great one, but an idea nonetheless. And right now, it’s all he’s got. He deliberately bangs his fist against the steel beside him and immediately he sees the man by Pepper look up in his direction. Even if the man can’t _see_ him, he knows someone’s there, and so do the other HYDRA lackeys, who immediately begin barking orders and heading for the hallway, likely looking for a way to get to him. 

“Jarvis, gonna need some more help here.” 

Pepper’s eyes go wide at the bang that comes from above -- of course, it seems to do exactly what it was intended to do, distracting the guy behind her just as the lights start flashing and rock music -- something horrible, clearly Tony’s playlist -- starts blaring, courtesy of JARVIS. 

Up where Bucky is, his phone flashes with a message: _There is a vent ten feet straight ahead. I have taken the liberty of unlocking it. I believe if you drop down, you will land precisely on the head of the man holding Miss Potts hostage._

Well. Here goes nothing, he thinks as he crawls the ten feet and says a quick prayer before dropping several more feet -- and just as Jarvis predicted -- right atop the man behind Pepper. The guy hits the ground hard but Bucky isn’t taking chances. He follows it up with a well-placed punch to the face to keep him down and out, the entire room seeming to fall into chaos. Fortunately for him only a handful of people even realize he’s there because the music -- AC/DC -- is so loud that the walls are literally rattling. 

Good job, JARVIS, he thinks, disarming the man and gently grasping Pepper’s arm. “Gotta move,” he mouths since there’s no way she can possibly hear him. 

Pepper looks at him with wide eyes, but aside from her obvious momentary surprise, she seems relatively calm. She nods, looking around for the rest of the soldiers who’d been milling around -- it looks like two of them are still here, headed toward them, fumbling for their weapons. But there’s no sign of the man who’d been on the phone, and the rest of the soldiers are also gone, out in the hall looking for the source of the disturbance. 

Pepper points to the two men headed their way, then without hesitation reaches over, takes the chair she’d been sitting in, and throws it at them.

“Now we can move!” she yells. 

Bucky’s lips quirk upwards, but he knows they’re on a limited timeframe and one slip-up here is going to get people killed. 

He takes the shot that her distraction provides him with, two bullets and two less HYDRA agents to cause problems later. The shots don’t even begin to make a dent in the amount of noise coming from JARVIS’ speakers. Which is probably for the best, given the opportunity for chaos. 

Now all they need to do is secure the room and wait for backup to arrive. It’s the kind of odds he’d take all the way to Vegas if he was a gambler. Bucky strides toward the large double doors that lead to the ballroom. 

Pepper follows, keeping close and trying to keep an eye out for more HYDRA agents. “Where’s Steve?” she says, hoping he’ll hear her over the noise. She suspects he must be taking another approach, that the two of them have split up. It makes the most sense, after all.

“They poisoned him,” Bucky tells her grimly as he shuts the doors and locks them. It won’t keep out heavily armed individuals for long, but it’s better than nothing. 

Pepper’s eyes grow even wider at that, as her hand goes to her mouth. She knows that if _Steve_ is poisoned, they must have used something extremely toxic. 

“He’s in one of the panic rooms in the tower.” Which Bucky still needs to thank Tony for in the near distant future. He glances at her, wanting to make sure, “You okay?”

Pepper recovers quickly. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little shaken, but -- aren’t we all?” She grimaces. “What’s the plan? And -- let me help you. Trust me, I can hold my own. JARVIS has my suit on standby.” 

Bucky cocks his head at that, looking at her. “Your suit? Like Tony’s?” Because he didn’t even know she had one and that sounds like the way they can ensure everyone’s safety. Between the two of them, they could easily take down the rest of the HYDRA soldiers here. 

Pepper nods. “I didn’t want to just… call it in there. Too many people could have gotten hurt. But if you could use a little extra firepower? I’m your girl.” Her smile is wry, but definitely confident. “And I’d make one hell of a sentry, if we want to keep anyone _else_ from getting in to terrorize the guests.” 

Bucky’s lips twitch up into a grin at that, relief washing over him for the first time since the night took a turn for the worse. “Pepper Potts, if I wasn’t already deeply in love with Steve, I’d kiss you right now.” 

***

Steve dutifully takes another slow sip from the bottle of water Bucky had left him, feeling at once antsy and tired. It’s like his nerves are clashing with everything else in his body, the poison still slowing him down, affecting his senses and making him feel sick, while his brain desperately wants to get out there and help Bucky, make sure he’s safe, get everyone _else_ to safety. 

Sam’s turned out to be a decent nursemaid and panic roommate so far, honestly; not that Steve’s done much but nurse the bottle of water and try to stay awake and keep his stomach from turning itself inside out. But he’s at least feeling better enough to get out a whole sentence, eventually saying, “Not the Christmas party you were planning on, huh?” 

A huff of a laugh escapes Sam. “You can say that again. I gotta admit, though, I wasn’t expecting to be hanging out with any of the actual Avengers.” He grins at Steve, reaching out and taking his pulse once more, relieved that it’s still strong and steady. ““For what it’s worth, though… glad I got the chance to help out Captain America and the Winter Soldier. And as long as everyone on Team Good comes out on top, I’m not complainin’.” 

“Think I can’t argue with you there,” Steve huffs, leaning back in the chair, wishing the room weren’t still spinning _quite_ so much. “I don’t like feeling useless. And I definitely feel useless… along with plenty of other words.” Like awful and sick and nauseous and dizzy and, well. The list goes on and on. “I can’t believe they managed to get me _again_. I mean. Last time it was gas. Didn’t wear off quickly at all.” 

He’s maybe starting to feel the tiniest bit better. He thinks. He hopes. “Thanks for your help,” he adds. 

Sam studies him, nodding slowly. “Room spinning, by chance?” he asks, keeping tabs on his pulse still, just to be on the safe side. “’Cause I once tried to fight a guy when I was three sheets to the wind and the world was spinnin’ like a record and it didn’t go too well.” His voice is full of good humor. 

“Yeah… like a top,” Steve admits, grimacing even as he speaks. “Not in the fun way, though.” Because at least if he was buzzed -- which he can’t get -- it would mean things were in a hell of a lot better place than they are now. Oh, well -- no room for regret, really. They just have to deal with the situation as it is. 

“It’s maybe starting to slow down a little, though,” he says, taking another cautious sip. “They had to know that anything they gave me _would_ work its way out of my system eventually. Which means they’re on a timetable. The fact that the other Avengers got called away just confirms that, in my mind. I don’t like waiting people out, but it might be what we have to do.” 

Well. “What I have to do, anyway. If you think there’s something out there you should be doing, don’t let me stop you.” 

“Nah. You had it right the first time. Your boy asked me to stay with you and make sure you kept breathing. I take that sorta thing pretty seriously,” Sam tells him. “It’s an important job. Plus, I got the training for it. And given the number of weapons he had strapped to him under that suit, I got a good feeling he’s gonna be just fine.” 

He hopes, anyway. 

Steve laughs, his mouth curling up into a dumb, lovestruck smile, even if he doesn’t quite realize it. “He’s pretty great,” he agrees. “And good at taking care of himself. It’s not that I don’t think he’s competent…” He just worries. Of course he worries. He loves Bucky, and if anything happens to him, the people responsible will not be in a good way when Steve’s done with them. 

He just really, really hates being out of commission like this, right now. “I have to admit, I’ve never been a really good patient.”

Sam’s lips quirk upwards at the admission. “Fair enough.” And then, “It’s hard to know your mate’s running into danger,” he says, quietly. 

Suddenly the room’s lights flood on and he looks up, arching his eyebrows. “Well that’s either a really good sign or a bad one.” 

“Things are under control, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS announces. “Mr. Stark has lifted the emergency building lockdown. Medical is on its way to you now.” 

Steve maybe slumps in the chair a little, as relieved that he’s not going to have to push himself to get up and moving as he is that, “It seems like my mate’s probably in the clear, now,” he says, lopsided smile on his face, even if his eyes still aren’t focusing entirely properly and the room is definitely still spinning. “You should stick around. Unless you want to get the hell outta Dodge. I wouldn’t blame you.” 

“Nah. I’ll hang out with you. Don’t think I want the guy who took down all those bad guys on his own finding out I left his sick partner,” Sam jokes. 

He takes Steve’s pulse again, relieved that it’s remaining steady even if the guy looks like he’s about to hurl any second. “Seriously. It’s not a problem. I don’t mind hanging out awhile longer.” 

“A guy with a sense of self-preservation. Bucky’ll definitely love you,” Steve says, finally letting his eyes close just for a minute. If he can relax, if medical is on the way… then he can relax, and he’s going to trust that whatever Bucky did, it worked. (And he’s also going to trust that JARVIS would’ve told him if Bucky wasn’t okay.) “Frankly, the rest of the team might, too.” 

They could always use level heads… but Steve’s probably getting ahead of himself. “You know, Bucky and I were going to have a Christmas party of our own. A lot smaller. Ideally a lot calmer. If you want, you can be invited.” 

Sam grins at him, not sure if that’s the poison talking or if Steve’s just that nice of a guy to invite a stranger to his Christmas party. Still -- Sam Wilson is no fool. “Yeah, I’d like that. Hopefully it’s not quite as dressy as this event.” 

Steve may barely know Sam, but he likes him already -- he keeps his head in a bad situation and doesn’t baby his patients. What else does he need to know? 

“Definitely less dressy,” Steve agrees. “Honestly, just a couple of people. As long as you’re not allergic to cats,” he adds. Their place is too small to really put Alpine away, after all.

“Fortunately not.” San grins at him -- and then turns to look when the door opens and Tony Stark himself is standing there. 

“You were _poisoned_?” Tony demands, storming inside with a handful of paramedics right behind him. “Where’s Barnes?” 

“I was poisoned,” Steve agrees, managing to stand (well, sit) his ground as he’s veritably swarmed by people who start taking his pulse and blood pressure and shining a light in his eyes -- which, honestly, is making him more nauseous, though he thinks he’s got it mostly under control by now. He hopes. 

“HYDRA knows exactly how to do it. Remind me to destroy whatever computer they keep that information on, if we ever find it,” he says -- and then frowns, even as Tony says, “Rogers, that is… not quite how computers work, but A for effort.”

“Wait -- Don’t you know where Bucky is?” Steve had figured Bucky might have rendezvoused with the other Avengers, but… “Did you just get back?” 

“Yes, we just got back. No, we haven’t found Barnes yet. But we also haven’t found him splattered across a wall, so I’m sure your boy is just fine.” 

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice is loud as he calls down the hallway, quick footsteps approaching as he ducks into the room, eyes darting around all the paramedics and then to Sam, still sitting right beside Steve, who’s still looking a bit woozy. He maneuvers around everyone so he’s standing in front of Steve, eyes searching his for confirmation he’s still hanging on okay. “How ya feeling, sweetheart?” 

Steve’s eyes are still a little unfocused, but they definitely light up nonetheless when he sees Bucky appear in front of him. “Hey, baby,” he says, which is maybe not something he’d normally say, but it’s what slips out, all the same. “I’m good. Stayed put. Sam stayed with me. Are _you_ okay?” Because that’s definitely the most important question right now. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky reassures him, moving closer once the paramedics move enough to the side. He reaches out and presses a hand to his cheek, worry shining in his eyes. “All the bad guys are either rounded up or dead.” He pauses. “Pepper helped. She has a suit of her own, apparently.” 

“Yeah she does,” Tony says, clearly looking -- and sounding -- pleased, even as Steve’s eyes widen a little. 

“Oh,” he says, trying to glance between Bucky and Tony -- but that just makes him more dizzy, and he settles his gaze on Bucky again. “That’s… handy.” He has no doubt that Pepper handled herself admirably. Like Sam, she’s got a level head. “She’s okay, too, then? And all the guests?” 

“Everyone’s okay,” Bucky murmurs, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead, struggling to refrain from the full body contact he’s craving at the moment. He forces himself to take a deep breath and then he looks at the paramedics. “Is he gonna be okay?” 

“He should see Dr. Cho,” the man who appears to be in charge asserts. “Just to be on the safe side.” 

“I agree,” Bucky responds without hesitation.

Steve groans, but he knows that yeah, he really _should_ see Dr. Cho. 

And frankly, Bucky’s not the only one craving some contact; that simple, small kiss to his forehead is not enough. Steve reaches out, trying to catch Bucky’s fingers in his own, even if that’s not enough, either. It’s something. 

Sam merely raises his eyebrows. “Staying with me was really that bad, huh?” he asks, maybe grinning a little at Steve’s suddenly sheepish look.

Bucky lets his fingers tangle with Steve’s, squeezing his hand gently and cupping the back of Steve’s neck with his other hand. In the time they’ve been together, Steve’s never been hurt except the time when they’d both been gassed with the same chemical agent. He remembers that vague sense of needing to wrap himself around the alpha and comfort him, soothe him, and how much better they’d both felt when they’d been able to do just that. 

Then he glances over at Sam, who seems more bemused than anything. “Thank you. For staying with him.” 

“Hey, no problem, man. My honor, really.” 

Bucky smiles softly at Sam, nodding his agreement, because well. He’s not wrong. He does think it’s an honor to hang out with Steve. He also knows he’s very biased. “Can we get him up to Cho now?” 

“I can get up,” Steve insists -- although it’s definitely a bit of a struggle to get up out of the chair, the room spinning and his legs still feeling weak and unsteady, like someone else’s legs. He ends up leaning on Bucky more than he means to, which makes Sam step forward to slide under Steve’s other arm. “Oh,” he says, like he hadn’t realized that was an option. “Hey. Thanks.” 

Bucky sighs even as Steve slumps against him, and he tightens his arm around his waist, grateful when Sam moves to help. “Yes, thank you,” he echoes Steve, giving Sam a quick smile.  
“Hey, no problem. Happy to help,” Sam tells them both as they help Steve out of the room. 

Tony just eyes the three of them, looking both unhappy and amused at the same time, somehow. “JARVIS, make sure you record the whole thing. If Cap does anything hilarious, I want to know about it.” 

After that, Steve swears his feet are moving, and he’s taller than the two guys carrying him, but somehow it feels like he’s floating along, ferried by Bucky and Sam into the elevator, which starts rising toward the medical floor. Somehow, it’s like feeling awful has exhausted him; even though he didn’t really do any fighting at all tonight -- and isn’t that unfair, he thinks -- he feels like he just walloped an entire army single-handedly. “Think I wanna sleep for a week,” he says, drooping a little. “We might have to put off our party. Oh -- and Bucky, I invited Sam.” 

***

It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since Tony’s ill-fated Omega Rights Gala, and Bucky’s spent most of it reading, curled up beside Steve, who’s spent most of that time unconscious. The nurses assigned to come and check on him on their floor at the tower had removed the IV about an hour and a half ago and his boyfriend hadn’t stirred at all. He thinks it’s a good sign. He knows that after an injury or poisoning, it takes some time to recover. Fortunately, the serum is very, very thorough. Sleeping is the best thing for him. 

Bucky’s just finished the book he’s been reading, setting it aside and stretching out a bit more, letting his arm curl around Steve’s waist as he closes his eyes. He presses a kiss against his shoulder, and settles in to rest, too. 

A few hours later, Steve wakes up slowly. He’s a little groggy, just like he’s been when he’s woken up the past few times as well. After Dr. Cho had checked him out and decided that Bucky had had the right idea and they really just needed to flush the toxins out of his system, he’s mostly slept, except for the one or two times he’d woken up to shuffle to the bathroom. At least one of those times, Bucky had been waiting when he’d finished, handing over a bowl of soup that Steve had devoured gratefully -- and then he’d gone right back to sleep. 

This time, though, while it’s dark outside and there are city lights glittering beyond the frosted windows, he manages to claw his way up into full awareness and thinks… he might actually stay up for a while, this time. Of course, that isn’t as appealing as it could be, when he realizes the warm weight pressed against him is Bucky, who appears to have fallen asleep, too. Steve grins, curling closer to press a kiss to Bucky’s nose, figuring if Bucky doesn’t wake up in the next few minutes… well, Steve could still probably just go right back to sleep.

Bucky stirs, nose wrinkling involuntarily and a sigh escaping him as he shifts a little closer, resting his head on Steve’s chest and then slowly blinking himself awake. “Steve?” he murmurs, lifting his head and looking up at him to see him awake. He keeps his hand on the other man’s stomach, soft, sleepy smile spreading across his face. “You ‘wake?” 

“Think so,” is the soft reply. “IV’s gone -- s’that a good sign?” He knows it must be, especially considering how much better (and more awake) he feels. “Hope you didn’t just fall asleep.” He’s sure Bucky needed it, after all. He’d had a much more exciting night than Steve. 

“Good sign,” Bucky confirms, lifting his head a little more and studying him, taking it as a good sign, too, that there’s some color back in his cheeks once more. “How are you feeling?” He leans in and presses a kiss against Steve’s cheek before sitting up a bit more. 

Steve lets Bucky pull away to sit up, pausing a moment before starting to follow suit, himself. He’s not dizzy or groggy, and his muscles seem to be doing what he wants them to, so, “Better,” he admits, with a relieved smile that’s tinged with just the tiniest bit of guilt. “A lot better. God, I’m sorry I couldn’t help. I felt awful -- ha,” he adds, letting out a soft chuckle. “In every sense of the word. How are _you_?” 

Looking at him with clear eyes, finally, Bucky doesn’t look hurt. But looks can be deceiving, Steve knows. 

“I’m good,” Bucky says honestly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Not a scratch. Jarvis guided me through the vent system and I dropped down on a HYDRA soldier and knocked him out. I’m sorry you missed it. Pretty sure I looked awesome.” His lips quirk upwards playfully. 

Steve lets out a breath, lips ticking up into a lopsided grin. “God, I bet you did. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it.” But definitely glad that Bucky came out of it perfectly fine. “But I knew you could handle it. Glad you were here _to_ handle it. I bet everyone else was, too.” 

He lets out another breath, twisting so he can lean against the headboard a little. “Definitely not the level of excitement I think Tony was going for, with his gala. But I guess it means HYDRA’s still in business… and we’ve got work to do.” Because he would prefer to put them _out_ of business. Permanently. 

Bucky exhales, too, nodding a little. “We do,” he agrees quietly. “But… maybe we can wait ‘til after Christmas?” Rebecca’s supposed to be flying into New York in a couple days for their party and after the excitement from last night, he’s really hoping for a lowkey Christmas. 

Steve nods, eyes fluttering a little. “Yeah. Yeah… I think we can wait until after Christmas. We deserve a break.” And he wants to give Bucky that break; he wants to spend time together _not_ saving the world or going on missions. He wants to spend time with Becca, too. And have that -- much smaller, hopefully HYDRA-free -- party he’d been talking about. 

It’s about then that he remembers, “Uh. I think I really did invite Sam to our party. Is that okay?” 

“You kidding? He helped save both our lives last night. If we ever decide to adopt kids, he’s definitely going to be the godfather,” Bucky jokes. He gives Steve an easy smile. “Seriously. It’s fine. He seems like a good guy. Someone worth getting to know.” And he really is grateful to him for staying with Steve when he needed to be helping take down HYDRA. 

Steve smiles because, “Yeah. I thought so, too.” Sam’s a good guy, and he’d like to spend more time with him. Ideally in a situation that isn’t a disaster scenario/hostage situation. 

Bucky exhales and shifts closer, wrapping his arms around Steve’s torso and hugging him tightly. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

Which makes Steve grimace; “Yeah, I -- sorry. I really didn’t think I could be poisoned like that.” It had felt like the gas was a one-off, a lucky shot. Now… Now things are a little more serious, if HYDRA knows how to take him down, even temporarily. “That isn’t something I’d like to repeat,” he says. “Maybe there’s some kind of antidote Dr. Cho can cook up.” It’s not ideal, but it’s something -- at least, until they find the formula and destroy it. 

“Again, not how I’d wanted to spend the night,” he says, reaching out for Bucky, wanting to pull him close, feeling like even sitting a few inches away is just too far.

Bucky practically melts against him, shuddering involuntarily, burying his face against Steve’s neck. “Me either,” he mumbles, sliding his hand up to cup the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb gently over the bonding scar. “I know she took some blood samples, so she’s probably thinking along those lines already, too.” 

Steve practically melts into Bucky’s touch, curling around him on instinct, pressing his own nose against the top of Bucky’s head for a moment, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, along with the scent that’s just plain _Bucky_. “She’s a smart lady,” he says, into Bucky’s hair. But he’ll talk to Cho later. Right now, all of his attention is on Bucky. 

“It was real nice -- before everything went to shit. Dancing with you,” he murmurs. “I liked that. Think we weren’t half bad at it, either.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs in agreement, pressing a kiss over the scar, soft and sweet, letting his lips linger against his skin momentarily before drawing back to look at Steve. “I love you.” He swallows heavily, leaning his forehead against Steve’s and letting his hand rest over his heart. 

Steve breathes out a slow, steady breath, eyes crossing a little as he tries to keep looking at Bucky, even as their foreheads touch. “I love you, too, soldier,” he murmurs, pulling Bucky even closer if he can, not minding that they’re practically on top of each other at the moment. That feels just about close enough, after everything. 

Bucky draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Nat was swinging by to pick up Alpine since we weren’t sure how long we’d be here.” 

Steve’s definitely relieved to hear that Nat’s got a handle on the cat. “Good,” he says, eyes falling shut again for a moment. “I guess… Dr. Cho’s probably gonna want to see me again. And we might as well rest and regroup here, where we’ve got pretty much everything we need at our fingertips.” He usually feels pretty embarrassed about that fact, but right now, when he’s still a little exhausted and wrung out, it feels like a luxury worth enjoying. Just this once. 

“Plus, this bed is _huge_ ,” Steve adds, with a laugh. He definitely remembers being embarrassed about that before, but now it just seems funny. Maybe he’s still a little bit doped up -- or just relieved. Could be either, honestly. “If you don’t mind staying a day or two, anyway.” He knows Bucky’s got Book Barnes to deal with, and Steve won’t pretend that’s not important, too. It is. 

“Already called Wanda,” Bucky admits, letting Steve tug him closer without argument. Considering how terrifying the previous night had been, he’s content with being right on top of Steve, if only because it means he’s safe and sound. “She’s gonna handle the store ‘til we get back.” She’d graduated a few months ago and she’s taking some classes at one of the community colleges in Brooklyn, but she spends a lot of her time helping out at the store and they’ve been trusting her with more and more responsibility. She seems to be pretty happy about it. 

“I’m good with staying for a few days,” he assures Steve, burying his face in his neck once more. 

“Wanda is the best,” Steve breathes, relaxing a little further as he hears that Bucky’s got the situation handled. Not that he’d ever doubted that for a second. “Okay, then. We’ll stay a few days. But I still want to be home before Christmas.” 

Because even though this is technically his floor, and it’s not like he doesn’t feel welcome in the Tower, it’s not _home_. Not when home is with Bucky, in the little apartment behind Book Barnes. And that’s where Steve most definitely wants to spend their first Christmas together. “But I guess for now, we’ll just live it up in the lap of luxury.” He grins a little, then shifts his weight, rolling them so they’re lying side by side on the bed. 

Bucky makes a quiet noise when Steve rolls them, arm hooking around Steve’s torso and holding his breath, licking his lips. “Guess we will,” he agrees, sliding one of his legs between Steve’s, more to get closer together than anything. 

Steve lets out a slow, satisfied breath, just settling his weight over Bucky and nosing at his neck. He knows that if Bucky moves, makes any indication that he doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want Steve to be where he is, Steve will move; but until then, he wants to cover Bucky completely, to wrap him up and wrap himself up in Bucky, and just get as close as they can get. “Got any ideas about what we should do, since we’re here?” 

The brunette has no complaints about his current position; nor does he have any complaints about Steve’s. The need to touch and be reassured that his alpha is okay, to reconnect, surges through his veins and a quiet moan escapes him as he winds his other leg around Steve’s waist. “Got a couple,” he murmurs, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. 

“Yeah?” Steve laughs softly, feeling so, so good, just being this close to Bucky. “Maybe you should tell ‘em to me. You always have good ideas.” He has a feeling they’re likely thinking along the same lines -- they usually do -- but he still means what he’d said. He wants to hear what Bucky wants, because right now, Steve wants to give Bucky anything and everything. He wants to make Bucky happy, to make him feel good. To make sure he knows how much Steve loves him -- how much he needs him. 

Bucky’s face flushes with warmth that runs from head to toe at the sight of that grin on Steve’s face and he lifts a hand up to cup his cheek. “Well, I kinda thought we could lose some of these clothes, for one.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “And then… I don’t know. See what happens from there.” His voice is teasing. 

“See? Great idea,” Steve murmurs, watching Bucky’s face, rapt. “I definitely agree. Too many clothes.” One hand slides down Bucky’s side, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt -- teasing, yes, but he’s still watching Bucky’s face. He knows that was basically permission, but sometimes he just likes to make extra sure, in case Bucky wants to be the one to remove his own clothes, or he wants to start on Steve, or something else entirely. It’s always best to make sure, and he definitely wants to be on the same page as Bucky, tonight. 

Bucky holds his gaze even as he reaches for the hem of _Steve’s_ shirt, letting his fingers skim along Steve’s ribcage slowly and nodding ever so slightly in silent permission for Steve to do the same. There’s a warmth in his chest at the fact that Steve waits, doesn’t just take it for granted the way so many would. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss him. 

Steve just melts against Bucky at those words, at that kiss, warm and gentle but maybe with the promise of more heat, underneath it. He hums softly against Bucky’s mouth, only waiting until they finally break apart to say, “I love you, too, Buck. So much,” before he shifts to roll them again, so that Steve’s the one with his back to the mattress and Bucky’s on top of him. 

That just makes it easier to start smoothing his hands up Bucky’s back, dragging the shirt with it, bunching it up under his arms before he gives a bit more of a tug, prompting Bucky to lift his arms so Steve can peel it the rest of the way off and toss it onto the floor. 

The sincerity in Steve’s words hits Bucky as hard as it always does, each and every time. He wonders how he’d lived so many years without knowing this man, marvels at the fact they’ve only known each other going on a year. He feels like he’s known him his entire life. Maybe it’s just like that for soulmates. 

He holds his breath as he lets the other strip off his shirt, doesn’t pay any attention to where it lands. He doesn’t care because it doesn’t matter. 

Steve’s got this dumb grin on his face, looking up at Bucky, thinking he’s never seen anyone look so good. Not ever. Not like this, and -- he gets to have this. For as long as Bucky wants to give it to him. He feels so lucky, just then, it’s almost like a punch to the gut. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, God - I really love you, too.” 

Bucky carefully tugs Steve’s off and discards it the same way, not taking his eyes off him, and groaning softly at the feel of bare skin against bare skin. He rests his right hand over Steve’s heart, lets himself feel the steady beat there for a long moment. “Show me?” he whispers. 

Now that his torso is bared, Steve starts to reach up to wrap his arms around Bucky and pull him close, watching his face… until Bucky says those two soft words. 

It’s like something in him snaps at that -- like that’s an order he can and desperately wants to follow, surging up to kiss Bucky and rolling them again, not caring which way they go because there’s plenty of bed no matter which way he rolls. 

But he doesn’t pin Bucky; instead, Steve arches up, dragging his lips away from Bucky’s mouth almost reluctantly, but there’s so much more skin to kiss, and he wants to make sure he gets it all. He kisses his way down Bucky’s jaw, down his neck, over his shoulders and then across his collarbone, fingertips dragging over his sides as he shuffles down a little every so often, fingers reaching for Bucky’s waistband. 

But despite the desperation Steve feels, he’s trying not to hurry. He’s trying to take his time, to make sure he shows Bucky exactly what he asked for -- that Steve loves every inch of him equally. And that every inch is what makes up Bucky, and it’s worth worshipping. 

It doesn’t take much of Steve’s attention to turn Bucky into a shuddering mess beneath him, skin feeling hot all over every place that Steve’s lips touch him. He lifts his hips so Steve can remove his sweatpants -- they’re actually Steve’s anyway, because he hadn’t thought to leave any of his own clothes here the last time they’d stayed at the tower. It’s been a while, after all. 

There will always be something about Bucky wearing his clothes that gets Steve hot under the (metaphorical) collar; he can’t help the little growl that comes out when he reaches the fabric, and again when Bucky’s body arches, lifting his hips so Steve can pull them off to join the shirt, forgotten, on the floor. 

Bucky lets his own hands trail down Steve’s torso to the pair of pants he’s wearing, tugging at them even as his left hand gives a dull ache of protest. He’s been wearing the sleeve that Stark had made him round the clock the last few days; it’s probably time to take it off, even if it’ll essentially render his left arm useless. 

Right now, it’s not his most pressing concern. 

When he feels Bucky’s fingers at his own waistband, Steve shimmies up a little, trying to wiggle back and forth so Bucky can start tugging them down his own hips, even if there’s no way they can get Steve’s pants off without him moving in one way or another. And that’s really not appealing at all, right now. 

Bucky shifts beneath Steve, head dropping back against the pillows, breathing hard. “Feels good,” he whispers. 

Steve noses urgently at Bucky’s neck, listening to his breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall under him. But he’s not so far gone that he doesn’t notice that Bucky’s still wearing his sleeve; “Good,” Steve hums, nipping gently -- so very gently -- at the mating bite on Bucky’s neck. “Good, I want you to feel good.” 

Which is why he asks, a moment later, “Your arm doing okay?” 

Bucky shudders involuntarily beneath him at the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue against the mark that he’d made so many months ago. It’s amazing, how such a small gesture can essentially chase all coherent thought from his head so damn effectively. It actually takes a moment for his mind to catch back up with Steve’s question. 

And from anyone else, he’d be caught off guard by the level of attentiveness, but this is Steve, and he never misses a thing. Not when it comes to Bucky, anyway. He draws in a slow breath. “It’s a little sore. Probably had it on too long, though,” he admits quietly, brushing his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I can manage awhile longer.” 

He really, really doesn’t want to distract Steve from what they’re doing, after all. He rubs both hands down Steve’s back, enjoying the feel of the muscles there, fingers dancing across smooth flesh. 

Steve practically purrs as Bucky runs fingers through his hair, eyes fluttering and this time, he’s the one who needs a second to catch back up with what Bucky said. 

“Okay,” he agrees, softly, glancing up at Bucky with a gentle grin. He knows it can get a little sore and oversensitive if Bucky wears the sleeve too long, but it’s his call. “You take it off when you need to, though. We’ll manage either way.” They’re pretty good at doing just about anything a person can imagine doing with or without the sleeve, but he can understand why Bucky wants to leave it on, sometimes. 

And it does feel good, trailing along his back beside the flesh of Bucky’s other hand -- both are warm, the thin metal sleep-warmed and the other hand just naturally so, feeling different but the same, both Bucky’s hands on him and so, so good. “Lemme,” Steve starts to say, finally wiggling away a little to roll off and try to kick out of his sweatpants all the way. It’s not the most graceful move he’s ever pulled, but ideally his eagerness will make up for it. 

The way Steve inherently trusts him to know what he can handle is only one of the many reasons that Bucky loves him so much. He props himself up on his elbows to watch Steve do his best to shimmy out of his own pants, leaving both of them clad only in boxers. It’s a definite improvement over all the layers of clothes that had been between them. He smiles up at Steve, eyes bright as Steve’s body returns to slide over his own once more. Bucky winds both of his legs around Steve’s waist, pressing their lower bodies close despite the thin clothes, groaning at the sensation and biting down on his lower lip. 

“Sure you’re feeling up to this?” he murmurs, lips close to Steve’s ear before he presses a tender kiss there. 

Steve makes a soft, desperate sound of his own, arching his hips even as he shivers at the touch of Bucky’s lips. He still feels somehow impossibly overdressed, eager and hot and so, so in love there’s no way he could ever have long enough, even in a whole lifetime, to tell Bucky just how much he loves him. How much he wants to stay here with him, like this, forever. 

“I dunno,” he finally manages to mumble, with a breathless laugh, defaulting to really bad humor when he’s feeling so giddy and happy. He arches against Bucky again, adding, “Does it feel like it to you?” 

Bucky laughs softly at the joke -- because yeah -- it’s bad, but it’s also _funny_ right up until it’s not, because Steve _definitely_ feels up to the task at hand and it makes a soft noise escape him as need and want thrum through his veins. 

All joking aside, “I’m good,” Steve says, a moment later, going down onto elbows to get closer to Bucky, to press chest to chest. “I’m good, I promise.” Yeah, he’ll probably sleep well again after this, but right now, this is definitely what he wants. 

“‘Kay,” Bucky murmurs, lifting his hips instinctively to meet Steve’s again. He gazes up at him intently, eyes darker than usual. “Don’t know what I would’ve done. If you hadn’t been okay,” he admits, voice hushed.

Steve shifts a little, sliding one hand down Bucky’s side, over his hip and down his leg, as though Bucky needs any prompting or help to keep his legs locked around Steve’s waist. He lets out a soft breath at that confession, glancing up at Bucky, face going a little serious. “I’m okay,” he says, as if that will just make everything better, even though he knows it won’t. He knows what it’s like to worry about someone like that, and he knows what it’s like to _worry_ someone like that. 

It was neither of their faults, but even so -- “I’m sorry. I know this line of work isn’t… well. Y’know. The safest or most stable.” 

He also knows they should be able to go to a damn Christmas party without someone going down for the count, but here they are. “I’m glad you’re okay, too. For the record.” Because what Bucky had been doing hadn’t been safe or easy, either. 

The reassurance both helps and it doesn’t in equal measure; Bucky knows, of course, that Steve is okay, because he’s right there with him, awake and alive as can be, warm and strong in his arms. But it does nothing to quell his anxiety of something like this happening again in the future, because he’s smart enough to know that it probably will. It’s what they do. Hell, it’s what they’re _made_ for, even if Bucky’d never wanted it. He accepts it because it helps him make a difference, helps him keep up with Steve more than he’d be able to otherwise, and because it’s not like there’s a choice. There’s not a way to undo the serum, and even if there was, he wouldn’t do it anyway. 

Not if it means helping keep the world a little safer. And not if it means keeping _Steve_ a little safer. 

“It’s okay,” he tells Steve softly, lifting his hand to his cheek again. “You’re okay, and I’m okay, and we’re together, and that’s what matters.” But there are still moments where his insides grow heavy and cold at the thought of losing Steve. There probably always will be, and he’ll deal with them the same way Steve does. They’ve both had some close calls. That’s not likely to change. 

Steve gets that -- he really, really does. It’s almost strange, sometimes, how loving someone so hard can make you light and heavy all at the same time. How wrapping yourself up in their wellbeing is so easy, and so terrifying, and so right all at once. 

He nods, brushing his cheek against Bucky’s palm, then twisting his head just enough to press a soft kiss there. “We’re okay, and we’re together. And I promise, I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure this is how we always end up.” He means it, with all his heart. He wants to end up right here, like this, with Bucky, even after the bad times. Having something worth fighting for -- worth living for -- is a hell of a motivator. 

Steve lowers himself the rest of the way down after a moment, just pressing every inch of his body close to Bucky’s again like he’s trying to prove he’s here and not going anywhere. “How do you wanna do this, sweetheart?” he asks, softly, nudging his nose against Bucky’s cheek. He’s never much cared if they’re ‘traditional’ or not, and Bucky more than knows it by now. He doesn’t care which one of them is “on top,” only that they’re both feeling good at the time. “What’s gonna make you feel the best?” That’s what his alpha instincts want right now -- to please Bucky, however he wants to be pleased. 

The solidity of Steve’s body atop his own goes a long, long way toward alleviating Bucky’s lingering anxieties and for a moment he just holds onto him, lets his eyes close, breathes in his familiar scent. He nuzzles against Steve’s face, contemplating the answer to that question. There’s so much relief in the knowledge that the other _doesn’t_ care about tradition the way most alphas seem to. Truth be told, he gets a lot of enjoyment out of switching things up whenever they’re in the mood. 

But tonight -- 

“Need you inside me, Stevie,” he whispers, tightening his legs around him once more. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, almost laughing because that’s so, so easy -- not that the other way around wouldn’t have been, either. They’ve both got more than enough practice, by now, to make sure the other enjoys every bit of whatever they’re doing, and sometimes, like now, Steve even likes taking it upon himself to make _sure_ Bucky’s out of his mind before they even get that close. 

“Okay,” he says again, fingers sliding down Bucky’s calf now, just following the line of his leg. “You want me to get you off first?” he asks, with a little laugh, wondering how impatient Bucky’s feeling. “Or should I just get the stuff out of the drawer and get busy?” 

It’s times like these that he kind of really likes taking orders from Bucky. Really likes knowing that what he’s doing is exactly right. It would probably make Natasha laugh, knowing how much Steve likes being ordered around, sometimes. Luckily for them, he’s pretty sure she’ll never find out. 

Bucky shivers at the feel of Steve’s fingers tracing down his leg. Most of the time he doesn’t mind drawing things out as long as possible if they’re both up for that. Right now, though -- 

“Get to it, Captain,” he responds, shifting beneath him restlessly. The feelings that are overtaking him are a bit like a sudden onset of heat -- which this definitely _isn’t_ , thankfully. But there’s an uneasiness, a restlessness beneath his skin that’s making him itch and he’s not in the mood to wait any longer than necessary. He needs Steve and he needs him _now_. He lifts his hips against Steve’s, arching up and pressing kisses to his neck. 

“Yessir,” Steve murmurs, definitely not willing to wait if Bucky wants to move things along. 

Of course, he’s got to move to get to the lubricant they keep in the bedside table; he groans, but then leans up to press a hard kiss to Bucky’s lips before he pulls away to shimmy up the bed, glad that they keep stuff here even if they’re pretty much never in the tower. It only takes a minute, thankfully, before he can slip back down the bed and where Bucky is. 

Then he tosses the little bottle onto the mattress and reaches for the waistband of Bucky’s boxers, glancing up again with an almost shy little grin, before he starts working them down, warring a little between taking his time and trying to just get Bucky naked as fast as possible. He had been told to get on with it, after all. 

Bucky tries his best _not_ to react to the feeling that he’s about to vibrate out of his own skin, unsure of where this sudden overwhelming neediness is coming from but knowing Steve’s the only one who can do anything about it. He lifts his hips instantly as soon as the other man starts taking off his boxers, already reaching out for Steve’s to do the same for him. The next part does kind of require them both being naked and he’s nothing if not efficient. 

Steve maybe laughs a little as Bucky’s fingers grasp at his boxers; he almost feels a little giddy with need and excitement running under his skin twisting and shimmying to let Bucky get his boxers off. 

Once both of their clothes are finally gone, Bucky turns onto his stomach, not because it’s the position he wants to stay in, but because it’ll be easier for Steve to prep him this way. He throws him a look over his shoulder. “Come on, Stevie.” 

Steve’s laugh turns more into a gasping groan as Bucky rolls over and tosses that look over his shoulder. “ _Shit_ , Buck,” he mumbles, leaning forward to run his lips up Bucky’s spine, fingers roaming over every inch of his back he can reach. “You’re really hot, d’you know that?” 

Of course, he doesn’t need to be told what to do twice. So, he drags his lips back down Bucky’s back and crouches behind him, flipping open the cap on the lube and pouring out a generous amount, warming it briefly between his palms before he finally lets one hand drift over Bucky’s backside, thumb slipping slowly between his cheeks. “Good?” he asks, maybe grinning just a little, knowing he hasn’t really done much of anything yet, but still wanting to check. 

Bucky shivers first at the feel of Steve’s lips against his spine, then at the gentle press of his thumb even if he hasn’t really begun yet. Steve’s teasing him, and he knows it. He arches his hips back a little, scraping his teeth over his lower lip. “You’re the worst, Rogers,” he grumbles. “You know that, right?” He knows Steve knows he’s joking, so he’s not too worried about him taking that the wrong way. 

“Gonna do a press conference and tell everyone Captain America is a big _tease_.” 

“Uh-huh,” Steve says -- mostly in response to both, and not even trying to keep the grin out of his voice. Of course, he figures maybe that’s an indication that he should actually do what Bucky asks. It’s what he wants to do, after all. 

So he gets to it, pressing his thumb a little more firmly against Bucky’s hole, circling slowly, pressing inside and sucking in a breath at the tight heat he finds. This part he wants to take slowly enough that he doesn’t hurt Bucky, but he knows this is also the part that can drive a guy really wild. 

He leans forward, nipping gently at Bucky’s hip, circling his thumb just inside, giving it a few slow swirls before pulling out again, twisting his hand to press his index finger back against Bucky, then sliding his middle finger in alongside, keeping an eye on Bucky’s posture to make sure he’s not moving too fast.

Bucky exhales slowly as Steve gets with the program, letting his eyes close and doing his best to relax and not tense up. He shudders at the feel of Steve’s lips against his hip and he turns his head to watch him the best that he can, cheeks red with heat. He breathes through the pressure as Steve works to prepare him. They’re both super soldiers. He knows he can take a lot, but Bucky’s never been any kind of masochist and this part is necessary or things won’t be comfortable for _either_ of them. 

“I’m good,” he offers when he catches Steve watching him carefully, gives him a small smile of reassurance. “Ready for another.” 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, nodding a little and sliding that second finger in, working them slowly, trying to ignore the heat crawling over his skin at the sight of his fingers disappearing into Bucky, even when he’d much rather have it be another part of him. He can’t do that until he takes care of Bucky properly, after all. That’s what makes this part almost fun. 

He slowly scissors his fingers into the tight heat, feeling it slowly, slowly give. He rests his other hand on Bucky’s hip, squeezing gently, humming softly in warning before he adds a third finger -- more slowly this time. 

A moan escapes Bucky and he bites down harder on his lip, dropping his head forward and onto the mattress even as his hips push back toward Steve. He almost wishes he’d told Steve to get him off first, because he’s painfully hard already and they’re just getting started. But the truth is he likes to have Steve inside of him when he reaches that peak, likes the way it draws the breath right out of the other man, likes the way his own pleasure tends to set Steve off right after him. 

There’s a sense of power there and it gives him a little thrill every time it happens. 

“Can’t wait for you to get inside me,” he murmurs, rocking his hips lightly again. Last night he hadn’t been sure they’d ever have this again and -- ah. That’s it, he realizes. The sense of urgency he’s feeling now is leftover anxiety from the previous evening’s incident. He draws in a slow breath and lets it out just as slowly. 

“You’re not the only one feeling impatient,” Steve breathes, because he’s never needed Bucky to present or beg him for it, but he also can’t deny that the vision before him right now is really, really hot. He’s trying to take his time for both their sakes, but it’s hard when Bucky says things like _that_ , rocking back against his fingers and breathing like that. Steve’s pretty sure he might go crazy before they get much farther -- not that he won’t enjoy every second of it. 

But he _doesn’t_ want to rush, trying to take his time, rubbing slow circles on Bucky’s hip to match the motions of his fingers inside that heat. 

Bucky grins involuntarily at Steve’s admission, giddy that he’s feeling the same kind of urgency and neediness that Bucky is. But he does let the hand on his hip anchor him, settle him a bit.

“How’re you feeling? Be honest,” Steve asks, because he doesn’t want Bucky to go faster than his body is ready for, but even though Steve usually like teasing and drawing things out, tonight is not the night to do that. Not when he feels like he might explode, and he has a feeling Bucky might be feeling the same way. 

Bucky’s never been into pain and he’s pretty sure Steve isn’t either. “Good,” he says honestly. “Just use a lot of lube and we should be fine.” Especially if Steve’s going to end up knotting him, and he hopes that’s the case because he thinks that’s what they both need right now. 

Steve’s fingers pause for just a moment, as if he’s trying to gauge whether Bucky is telling the truth. But everything from Bucky’s voice to his body language says that he is, and Steve trusts him -- trusts him to the ends of the earth and back, and that means he also trusts him to know when he’s ready for more. 

Which is a damned good thing because Steve really, really, wants to be inside Bucky right now. “Okay,” he says, voice still a little breathy, chest feeling tight with just… with everything he’s feeling right now. Luck, and gratitude, and love. “Okay, d’you wanna turn over?” He doesn’t care how they do this, but Bucky usually likes to see his face. Hell, Steve usually likes to see Bucky’s face. Not that they can’t get close this way, too, though; honestly, they’ve found ways to get close no matter who’s doing what, but it’s still worth asking every time. 

Besides, Steve’s got to shift back a little, loathe though he is to do it, to grab the bottle of lube and start working it over himself -- and try not to let that be his undoing, either. At least he can do it quickly and efficiently, not like he’s trying to tease, when he knows something so much better is coming. 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s heart is beating fast as he licks his lips, rolling over onto his back so that they’re facing each other. He knows the way he’d been positioned would be fine, because he’s with Steve, and this has never been about domination or control. But he likes to be able to see Steve’s face, wants to kiss him while they make love, wants to be able to wrap his arms around him, and those things are all nearly impossible if he’s lying face down on the bed. 

He watches Steve stroke himself in preparation and a groan escapes him, breath hitching in his chest. “God. How do you manage to look so beautiful _all the time?_ ” he mutters, eyes keen on every move Steve’s making. 

Steve honest-to-god blushes at that, which is probably pretty impressive because he didn’t think he had much blood to spare. “Buck,” he laughs out, surprised but maybe a little pleased, too, hand faltering a little as he glances over to see that Bucky’s turned over, like he figured he probably would. 

And okay, _that’s_ a beautiful sight, if you ask Steve. He tilts his chin a little, abandoning what he’s doing and leaning in closer, aiming to maybe distract and surprise Bucky, by wrapping his still-slick fingers around Bucky’s cock, now so nicely available, as he says, “Although I guess I could turn that one right back around at you. I have no idea how I got so lucky, you know that?” 

Bucky meets his eyes, definitely distracted when Steve reaches out and strokes him, causing a moan to escape him as he lays his head back, shivering beneath him. He’s way, way too good at taking him apart a little at a time, but Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Steve presses up close, giving Bucky a few more slow strokes but not wanting to overdo it, nudging at his neck with his nose, just giving himself a moment to breathe and calm down, for all that he’s clearly aiming to rile Bucky up, instead. “I’m good when you are, gorgeous.”

“I’m good. I’m really good. Come on, Steve,” he mumbles, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck to anchor him close, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth even as he shifts beneath him, lining their hips up the best he can from his position.

“I need you,” he whispers. “I need this now.” 

Steve knows it’s just his dumb alpha brain talking, but those words sound _so_ , so good coming from Bucky; they light up his entire body from top to bottom like a sparkler, and this time, it’s him that lets out a soft moan, pulling away from Bucky’s lips to bury his face against Bucky’s shoulder for a moment before he takes a deep breath and starts to shift his own hips. 

He’s got to reach down, make sure they’re lined up, but this is a familiar dance by now -- familiar, and yet never boring, never dull, never anything but the most amazing thing Steve has ever felt. He knows they’re bonded, mated, have matching soulmarks, and yet it still amazes him every time, just how compatible they are. How Bucky’s body seems to welcome his as he slides slowly home, trying to savor the moment but also feeling impatient and eager as he arches over Bucky, getting his weight in his knees, dragging one hand down Bucky’s hip to his thigh, trying to get him to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist again. He loves that feeling, loves it when Bucky does that, hopes he’ll do it now as Steve gives a slow, almost testing shallow thrust, lifting his eyes to Bucky’s face to watch. 

Bucky responds immediately, winding both of his legs around Steve’s hips to lock him into place even as his body stretches to accommodate Steve’s. He scarcely breathes again until he’s all the way inside of him, all the way _home_. It’s an idle thought, but he thinks there’s truth there, too. His body was literally made for the man above him, and he’s glad for it. He shudders, meeting his eyes again and offering him a soft, warm smile as that restless feeling in his bones starts to subside. 

“Much better,” he admits, stroking his hand down Steve’s neck and then his back. “For you too?” he asks, searching Steve’s eyes hopefully. 

Steve’s eyes drift shut as a dumb smile stretches his face. “Better isn’t a good enough word, I don’t think,” he laughs softly, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, breathing him in as Bucky’s legs lock around his waist and everything just seems to slot into place in a way he hadn’t realized he’d missed until just now. He knows he was just feeling off from the drugs, whatever HYDRA had poisoned him with, but somehow _now_ is the moment that everything feels truly better. Truly right again. 

“I love you,” he says into Bucky’s skin, starting with a few slow strokes, not sure if this whole thing is going to be slow and sensual or devolve into fast and desperate, but honestly not caring a lot either way. Both are good, after all. And whatever this ends up being, however long they last, he knows that what it _means_ won’t ever stop. The way he feels, deep down, is like bedrock, giving him solidity that he’d thought he could never have. He hopes Bucky feels that way, too, even as Steve starts to rock against him, humming a little absently, feeling his skin already flush with excitement and arousal. “You feel so good, Buck. God.” 

Bucky buries a hand in Steve’s hair, lifting his hips to meet him halfway for each thrust, never one to lie there idly and let Steve do all the work. He groans softly, arching up and gasping as Steve breathes against him. “I love you, too,” he whispers, letting his other hand move to rest at Steve’s hip. Pleasure tingles through him, burning slow and bright as they move together, slowly at first. 

Then he tightens his legs around him a little more, drawing back to look at his face, skin flushed pink as he watches Steve move above him. “Faster,” he pleads. “Please, Stevie.” 

Steve makes a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, because he will never _not_ love hearing Bucky beg him for more. Again, stupid alpha brain, but he can’t help it. And maybe it’s not such a stupid alpha thing to want; he’s pretty sure Bucky never minds when Steve’s on the other end of things, begging just as much. Because neither of them is quiet about what they like, or what they want. 

“Uh-huh,” is about all he can get out by way of agreement, but he figures actions speak louder than words, anyway. 

Bucky moans Steve’s name, raking his fingernails lightly down his back, not enough to cause pain or even leave marks that’ll last beyond a minute or two.

The nails down his back send sparks of pleasure racing down his spine, and Steve arches into the touch like a cat, even as he braces himself a little better on the mattress, nosing at Bucky’s temple with a bit more purpose as he starts to speed his strokes up, putting as much concentration as he’s got left into making each one count, as he feels his body ramp up higher and higher.

Bucky can hear the litany of words that leave his mouth, a chorus of Steve’s name over and over, along with whispered encouragements and pleased noises as Steve follows through, speeding up the pace of their lovemaking. He’s shuddering beneath the other man, clinging to him tightly. 

“Need you,” Steve mumbles, almost not really aware he’s saying it out loud, lips pressed to Bucky’s skin as sweat starts to pop out along his skin. “Need you, always, Buck. Always.”

The sudden warmth in Bucky’s eyes at Steve’s words catches him off guard but he tightens his arms around Steve a little more, burying his face in his neck and kissing him there even as the other hits that space inside him that makes his entire body feel like it’s lighting up like it’s the Fourth of July. 

He cries out Steve’s name, his cock spilling between them as his body tightens hard and sudden around Steve, a couple of tears leaking from his eyes at the overwhelming emotions coursing through him. 

“Oh --” Steve’s almost caught off guard by the feel of Bucky coming around him, hips stuttering as he gasps at the feel, the hard clench of his body and the way it feels on the base of his cock, so sensitive and already swelling -- 

“Buck,” he groans, arching his hips and trying to keep them moving steadily, but it’s a lost cause. “Can -- can I -- knot’s gonna,” he can’t even really form a full, coherent sentence, mind already starting to fuzz out, but he needs to know what Bucky wants, if it’s okay to knot him or if he should pull back enough to keep it from happening. And he realizes he needs to know _soon_ , moaning against Bucky’s skin as his fingers clench in the bedsheets. 

Bucky can feel the way Steve’s starting to tense above him, feels the way the beginning of his knot is already pressing at his entrance and he whines softly. “Yes, yes, come on, Stevie,” he groans, trying to lift his hips to press closer to Steve’s just in case his words aren't sufficient or Steve doesn’t hear him. “Inside, please.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head back against the pillows as Steve thrusts into him just a little harder. 

“Ah, Buck,” Steve gets out, followed by something garbled that might be _thank you_ or at least something along those lines -- frankly, he’s not even sure, himself, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Steve’s hips press forward, trying to do this right, get himself seated inside Bucky _before_ his knot pops fully, and it’s the heat and the pressure from that, coupled with the tightness of Bucky’s body, the little convulsions still running though him, and the fact that it’s _Bucky_ , it’s Bucky, wanting Steve inside him, that all combines to do him in. 

Steve whines, hips arching _hard_ into Bucky one more time before he feels the wave of release wash over him, crashing down like a tidal wave as his body locks up, unable to feel anything but good, great, better than great, buried inside and pressed against the most important person in the world. 

It takes Bucky several long moments to really come back to himself, to come down from the rush and the adrenaline. He presses soft kisses against the side of Steve’s face and his temple, rubbing gently up and down his back and letting himself enjoy the comforting weight of Steve’s body atop his own, like a warm, weighted blanket of solid muscle. 

“That was incredible,” he whispers, stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair, loosening his legs around him though not by much. He’s definitely not anywhere close to ready to let go of him, which is good considering they’re tied together at the moment. But the point is, he doesn’t _want_ to let him go. “Such a good alpha, Steve. Always take such good care of me.” 

If Steve could purr like a cat, he absolutely would be, right now. Every inch of him feels warm and good and, frankly, pretty damn well taken care of, because Bucky’s got fingers in his hair and legs around his waist and is saying such nice things to him, he couldn’t possibly imagine anything nicer. It makes him laugh softly, burying his face against Bucky’s hair because, “Nah, you take good care of _me_ , sweetheart. You’re the best.” 

There’s a weird part of him that isn’t sure if he should call Bucky a good omega, if only because of the stupid connotations society has tied with that kind of thing. But the thing is, he _is_ a good omega -- he lets Steve take care of him like this, he touches Steve in all the right ways, often not even sexual, before he even knows that’s what he wants. He wraps himself around Steve and lets Steve wrap himself around Bucky. He’s the best. The best person Steve knows. “I love everything you do for me. I could never make it up to you.” 

“We take good care of each other,” Bucky responds with a soft smile, nuzzling against him. He’s not really sure if it’s because he’s an omega and Steve’s an alpha that all of their actions and responses seem to come so naturally, or if it’s because they’re soulmates, or just who they are as individuals and as a couple. He’s not sure it even matters, truthfully. As long as they’re both happy, he figures that’s what counts. “And there’s nothing to make up for,” he murmurs honestly, pressing a kiss against Steve’s ear. “Always make me happy, Steve.” 

“Just wanna keep doing that,” Steve says, inching a little closer -- or trying, given that they’re already pretty damn close. “I just wanna keep making you happy.” He loves the way it looks on Bucky, loves the way it sounds, loves everything about it when he’s happy, feeling good, feeling safe. “Guess that’s just my big dumb alpha brain, but it’s what I want.” Maybe that’s part of why he’d felt so awful, being barely able to stand and needing Bucky to be the one saving the day. Not that he can’t let Bucky do that, but Steve can’t help but want to be a part of whatever Bucky’s doing. Like a team. He wants -- needs -- to have Bucky’s back.

“I have no doubt you will, Steve,” Bucky whispers, stroking his cheek with his fingers. “And for the record, I love your big dumb alpha brain.” He smiles. “And every other part of you.” And Bucky intends on keeping him around for a long, long time, God willing.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky’s in the kitchen, putting on another pot of coffee and stirring creamer into his mug as he listens to the light-hearted chatter from the other room, a smile on his face. Dinner was amazing. Despite Tony trying to insist Stark Industries cater the little party, Steve had fixed most of the food, with Bucky and Becca helping out. Natasha had brought a couple bottles of wine, and Pepper had insisted on bringing dessert, which he’s fairly certain she made from scratch -- cheesecake. He’d managed to eat a little of everything even with a severe lack of appetite.

Now their guests are all in the other room while he takes a short break for more caffeine. He glances down at Alpine as she rubs up against his ankles and he smiles softly, leaning down to pick her up and chuckling as she nuzzles up under his chin. So far, their Christmas tree is still standing, most of the bulbs intact, though a couple had bitten the dust that morning. It’s okay, though. They’d both been aware of that distinct possibility, because… cats. 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head and sets her back down before picking his mug up off the counter and heading back to the other room.

“I’m telling you, you’ve never seen anything until you’ve seen a swarm of _giant_ bumblebees chasing you,” Clint is saying. 

“I can second this,” Natasha agrees, to which Sam, who’s mostly presiding over the conversation from the arm of the couch with his eyebrows making a run for his hairline, says, “I definitely do not ever want to see what that looks like.” 

Steve’s grinning when he glances over to see Bucky emerge from the kitchen with a mug in hand; there’s a vacant spot next to him on the couch, and he raises his arm off the back of the couch a little to indicate that it’s available for Bucky, if he wants to come claim it. 

Stark catches the motion because he rolls his eyes in Steve’s direction, saying, “You two really are disgustingly cute, you know that?” 

“I know,” Becca echoes, because of course she’s managed to get along with pretty much everyone in the group, right from the start. Steve isn’t surprised; he _is_ pleased. 

Bucky shoots Becca a bright grin even as he does indeed tuck himself into the spot right beside Steve, their sides pressed together as he curls himself up against him. “Like you and Pepper are any different?” 

Pepper smirks from her place beside Tony, glancing up at him. “Well. He’s got a point there.” 

“He’s a smart guy,” Steve says, nuzzling into Bucky’s temple in an attempt to be _intentionally_ disgustingly cute, and Bucky can probably feel his big dumb smile pressed into his skin. 

“Uuuugh, don’t prove your point,” Stark says, and Steve can just imagine him rolling his eyes. He doesn’t, however, look over. Just to keep proving his point. 

“If I vouch for Barnes’ intelligence, will you stop acting like a five-year-old?” Sam calls, admittedly laughing a little, from his perch. “I thought this was a grown-up party.” 

“Let them have their fun. I think it's sweet.” Natasha lifts her glass of wine and takes a small sip, glancing at Sam and then back at Steve and Bucky.

“Love _is_ sweet,” Thor agrees sagely, smiling at everyone. “Aside from magic, it’s the most powerful force in the universe.”

“Now _that’s_ disgusting,” Tony says, but Pepper just sighs and leans into him, kissing his cheek gently -- which makes him sigh loudly, but at least he shuts up. 

And that makes Steve grin, settling back into the couch a little and tightening his arm around Bucky. “I’m willing to agree with Thor. Since I’m already disgusting, apparently.” 

Becca chuckles and leans against Thor’s side a little more, which Bucky watches with interest, gaze curious as he glances between them, wondering if he’s missed something this evening. He’ll definitely be grilling her about it later, but Thor doesn’t seem bothered in the least. Interesting. 

“That’s what they say,” Natasha murmurs, taking another sip of the wine. “That Steve Rogers. He’s disgusting.” Her lips curve upwards and she shoots Steve a knowing look. 

“Well. I don’t find you disgusting,” Bucky tells him, resting his head against Steve’s. 

“That’s because you’re the best person in this whole room,” Steve grins, glancing around and not bothering to hide the smug grin on his face. 

The thing is, everyone in this room is pretty great, if you ask him. But he’s incredibly biased when it comes to Bucky Barnes. But he also figures that cat’s as out of the bag as it’s gonna get. 

“I do have to admit,” Sam says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “that, disgusting or not, this party is a lot better than the other one.” 

“Hey,” Tony says, looking affronted. “The whole HYDRA thing was _not_ in the plans.” 

“And let me say that I’m very glad to hear that because if it _had_ been in the plans, we’d be having a very different conversation right now,” Bucky says dryly. 

“No kidding,” Becca muttered, taking a drink, a dark expression passing over her face.   
“I think we’re all relieved no one here has any affiliation with HYDRA,” Bruce speaks up, grimacing. “Here’s to fewer evil Nazis in the upcoming year.” He lifts his glass. 

Steve laughs, even if it’s a bit subdued and wry. “I will definitely drink to fewer Nazis,” he says, wishing that’s not a toast they’d have to make, in this day and age, but -- well, things are what they are. All he can do is try to make that sentiment come true. “Also, to punching any of the ones we do come across.” 

“Seems reasonable to me,” Sam says with a shrug, raising his glass, too, slowly followed by everyone in the room. 

Bucky shifts his hand to rest gently at the back of Steve’s neck, thumb massaging there lightly as he glances at him out of the corner of his eye, also taking a drink at the toast. He knows Steve has more reason to hate HYDRA than any of them, even if he feels like he’s coming in a pretty close second. But he also believes everyone on the Avengers has their own reasons to want to wipe HYDRA off the map for good, and that’s something he can get behind without hesitation. 

“To fewer evil-doers in the world,” Thor agrees, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. 

“Hear, hear,” Steve murmurs, leaning into Bucky’s touch before he takes a slow sip of his own drink. Maybe he -- and Bucky -- have a lot of reason to hate HYDRA, but they’re all in this together. They’re all going to _work_ together to wipe them and anyone else who threatens the good things about the world off the map. And that’s what really matters. 

“Having a good time?” he asks Bucky softly while everyone else is clinking their glasses and adding on to how much they hate HYDRA. It’s definitely one of the better toasts Steve’s ever heard, he thinks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Bucky answers quietly, leaning in a little closer. “Definitely like the lowkey parties more than the big ones.” Even if they aren’t being interrupted by HYDRA. He likes having his sister here, is pleased and proud by just how well she fits in with his new friends. He hadn’t expected anything less, of course, but he’s pleased he’d been right in his assumption. “I think she’s got a crush on Thor.” His voice drops low enough that only Steve will be able to hear him, watching as Becca chats with the God of Thunder and he listens with rapt attention. 

Steve’s eyes track over to Becca and Thor, and he grins, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Seems like he doesn’t mind, if she does,” he points out. “They’re kinda cute.” But really, “She seems happy, too. I’m glad she’s getting along with everyone. Sam, too.” Because Sam had pretty much walked in the door with a case of beer and immediately settled in to talk to Clint and Natasha like he’d known them his whole life. 

Steve’s pretty sure he couldn’t be happier if he tried. “Probably a little premature, but I vote we do this again next year,” he says.   
Despite the fact that they’d bonded months ago, which obviously implies a long-term commitment, Bucky’s face grows warm at the simple suggestion of doing this again next Christmas. “I’d very much like that,” he murmurs, turning his head and pressing his lips against Steve’s, stealing a quick kiss while everyone else is otherwise occupied. He reaches out, tangling his fingers with his soulmate’s. 

“Oh, good,” Steve sighs, grinning into that kiss. “Because otherwise I was gonna have to figure out how to convince you, and actually work for it.” 

Not that he isn’t willing to work for things, or even to disagree with Bucky. But it’s much nicer when they’re on the same page -- which is, frankly, pretty frequently. Steve can’t complain. “As long as we don’t make too many more friends, or everyone won’t fit,” he adds with a laugh, fingers sliding down Bucky’s side to sit low on his waist, keeping him close. “I guess Becca really will have to start going out with Thor. If she brings someone else, we won’t know where to seat them.”

A short laugh escapes Bucky’s mouth even as his skin tingles every place he and Steve are touching, and he wonders if Steve feels it too. If they weren’t surrounded by all their friends and family, he’d ask, but it’s the kind of conversation that he thinks could quickly turn into something more, so he tables it for now. 

“Well. Can’t have that. Although I guess we could expand next year and use the bookstore for extra space,” he jokes.

“I guess we could,” Steve agrees. “Although that might mean we have too many friends.” 

Which is pretty much a lie. There is definitely no such thing. 

“I think we nailed the first Christmas together thing, though,” he goes on. “HYDRA aside, I mean.” 

“I think so, too,” Bucky murmurs, turning his head to look at Steve, expression soft, filled with warmth. “We seem to be doing pretty well with all the holidays we’ve spent together so far.” He smiles, squeezing Steve’s fingers. “Think we can keep it up?” 

Steve grins. “If we can make it through the Fourth of July with this dumb bunch, I think we’ll be okay.” 

But the truth is, he definitely thinks they’ll be fine. He knows they haven’t actually been together very long, but he also knows they’re in it for the long haul. _Together_. And nothing, including holidays, is going to change that.


End file.
